


Merlin's Great Albion Bake-Off Birthday Bash

by pezzax



Series: Pratmates [2]
Category: Merlin (TV), The Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: 80's Music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Attraction, Baking, Cake, Cavetown, Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Game of Thrones References, Geeky, How to Train Your Dragon References, M/M, MCU References, POV Arthur, POV Multiple, Pre-Slash, Slash, Slow Burn, Vegetarians & Vegans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2019-12-26 19:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 49,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18288851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pezzax/pseuds/pezzax
Summary: Arthur just gave his new flatmate the best birthday gift ever -- and yet, he kind of managed to mess everything up. Will he somehow salvage the day? Will their friends help him, or hinder his efforts?  And how in the world does Noel Fielding play into all of this????





	1. Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to 'The Vegan and his Pratmate....errr Flatmate'. Although this story can be read as a stand-alone, the history between Arthur and Merlin will probably be better understood if you read them in order.
> 
> I'm guessing that this will be about 25 chapters. I have it about halfway (ok, maybe only a third of the way?) written, and plan to post often. Each chapter is from a different point of view, and the chapter title indicates whose POV the chapter is told from. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!!
> 
> These are not my beautiful characters, these are not my beautiful cakes. My God, what have I done?

“Arthur, you are probably the only person in the world who could give the most perfect birthday gift ever given...and manage to turn it into the worst.”

Arthur's smile falters. “That's a bit unfair, Merlin. I bloody well put a lot of thought into this present.”

“Yes, that's actually obvious, and while I appreciate it, you've put me at a huge disadvantage compared to everyone else.” Merlin's body sinks even further into a defeated slouch, as he props one elbow on the arm of his chair and uses that hand to massage his temples.

Arthur is feeling too defensive to be affected by Merlin’s body language. “How exactly, do you suppose, did I manage to do that?”

Merlin ticks the ways off on his fingers as he responds, “One. Everyone else has had all day today to prepare. They'll have tested their recipes, and possibly purchased special decorative items to bring along to assist them with the dragon theme. I haven't even selected a recipe yet. Two. I have no opportunity to purchase any dragon decorations, because specialty stores will all be closed tomorrow. Three. I'm the only one constrained to cooking vegan. Baking using only vegan ingredients is more difficult in most cases, cakes especially. Four. Unless you've been intentionally deceiving me for some nefarious purpose, you are absolute rubbish in the kitchen. Everyone else will have a partner who actually assists them. I've probably forgotten several other ways that you've handicapped me, and more will likely crop up tomorrow, but that's it in a nutshell.”

There are many responses that Arthur could make to those criticisms, but if being president and CEO of an international company has taught him anything, it's time management. Right now is the time to focus wholly on the problem at hand, recognize strengths and admit weaknesses, and figure out a plan of action. “Right, Merlin,” he says rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. It's difficult for him to admit to any weakness, so he decides to skip over that part. “I excel at running out to the store at…” he looks at his Rolex, “8:43 pm to procure ingredients. Give me a list, and I can do that while you decide on a recipe.”

“I suspect that what you're actually best at is ordering people around.” Merlin snipes at him. Then, actually responding to Arthur’s offer, he adds, “Arthur, I can't give you a list of what I need until I've chosen a recipe.”

“Well, aren't there...many...ingredients...common to all cakes?” Arthur's inexperience with baking, cooking, or really anything to do with the kitchen results in a hesitancy to his words that he dislikes.

“Typically, yes. Of course. But if I want to make something extraordinary, I've got to include uncommon ingredients. Something to really make my cake stand out from the others. And then, once I've sorted the proper taste that I want, I still have to figure out how to decorate it.” 

Arthur stands up and walks over to sit back down in the chair next to Merlin. He softens his tone and says, “How can I help, Merlin? I may be rubbish in the kitchen,” - Arthur wonders how that admission found its way out of his mouth - “but I am an excellent judge of flavors.” Merlin pushes a stack of recipe books toward Arthur without looking up from flipping through the one in his hands. 

Merlin taps on a page in his book. “Hmm, how does a cinnamon, carrot, dragon fruit cake sound?”

“Awful.” Arthur answers honestly, then begins thumbing through the pages of the first book in his pile.

“How about dark chocolate avocado?”

“Merlin, if that's your idea of a cake that will wow the judges, then you were completely wrong. You definitely need me on your team if you want to win. I apparently have much better taste than you.”

“Says the narcissist.” Merlin doesn't look up as he mumbles his reply.

“Now I know you're stressed. Even your insults are suffering.”

“Prat.”

“Just proving my point, Merlin. You've used that one to death.” Arthur figures he'd better redouble his efforts if he wants to pull Merlin from his stress-induced inability to issue a heartfelt insult.

They both continue digging through recipe books, suggesting and discarding options for another half hour, when Merlin finds a recipe that he thinks is the best option so far. “This is it, Arthur. I'm just going to do this vegan red velvet recipe.”

Just as Arthur says, “Oh, this sounds really good. How about a coffee and Bailey's cake?”

“Bailey's is made from cream, Arthur. That means it wouldn't be vegan. I'm not compromising my values just to win a stupid contest.” Merlin huffs his annoyance at the thought, and it blows his hair off his forehead slightly. 

“Oh, right.” Arthur pauses, thinking about alternatives. “Well, how about a Kahlua cake? That incorporates the coffee and the alcohol without the cream.”

“Kahlua sounds good, and I could add coconut cream to make it more like the coffee and Bailey's.” Merlin looks back at the recipe he'd been reading, “I really liked the idea of red velvet though. The red seemed very dragon appropriate somehow.”

“Ok, then maybe combine the recipes...a Kahlua coconut cream red velvet cake.”

They both sit silently for a moment, considering how this combination of flavors will actually taste - and Arthur finds himself contemplating the way that he and Merlin work together in a way that makes them better than either of would have been separately. Merlin was definitely wrong when he lamented being teamed together, and Arthur is determined to prove it to him by helping him win tomorrow's contest.

Merlin interrupts his musings, “Yeah, I think that sounds perfect.” And Arthur takes that as the answer to both the cake flavor and his own secret plan. He simply nods at Merlin, snaps a photo of both recipes, then says, “I'll head to the store while you continue planning. Do you need anything other than the ingredients listed here?”

Merlin jots down several additional ingredients onto a notepad, then rips out the page and hands it to Arthur. He's so absorbed in thinking about what else he wants to do that he doesn't think to thank Arthur until he's closing the door of his flat.

Just as Arthur is entering the check-out queue at the Tesco down the street, he receives a frantic text from Merlin. “Searched everywhere! Can't find cake pans! Where are they??” He taps a quick reply and heads back to purchase an assortment of pans, slightly surprised to discover that there actually is a kitchen item that hasn't been gifted to him over the years.

Arthur returns home to the biggest mess Merlin has yet made in his kitchen, and he hasn't even started cooking yet. A few cabinet doors are still hanging open, and the shelves within appear to have been emptied. “Bloody hell, Merlin. Did you just dump the contents of each drawer and shelf onto the floor to make this mess?” 

Merlin is on his hands and knees with his head in a cabinet, pushing items from the back, hard-to-reach spots onto the floor beside him. “Arthur?” Merlin pulls his head from within the cabinet. “I can't find cake pans anywhere. Where do you keep them?”

Feeling extremely annoyed that Merlin didn't even bother to read his texted reply, Arthur holds up the grocery bags, “If you'd read my reply, you'd know that the pans are in here, with the cake ingredients, because I've never had need of either before today, Merlin.” He's practically growling his words. “But now, rather than getting started on the cake, you have to clean up this mess.”

Merlin looks around the room a bit sheepishly. “Well, on the plus side, I've helped you do a bit of spring cleaning.”

“Merlin, it's not spring, and this isn't clean!” Arthur sets the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, spins on his heel and retreats to his room before he says something that he really regrets. He plops onto his bed in a huff, tugs all of the pillows behind his back, and grabs his laptop from the nightstand. As he begins scrolling through YouTube to find instructional videos, he can hear Merlin in the kitchen, starting in on one of his solo arguments. Although Arthur typically enjoys listening, tonight, he's on a mission, and he's already stayed up much later than usual. He plugs in his earbuds, clicks on a video that looks promising, and drowns out Merlin's words.

After watching at least half a dozen videos, Arthur heads back into the kitchen. The chaos from earlier has all been put away - replaced now by his flatmate’s typical cooking mess - and Merlin is humming to a tune playing on his own earbuds while pouring batter into a round cake pan from the stand mixer. Arthur is pleased to see that Merlin is using several of his impulse purchases. In particular, the bottle of Almond Bailey's that he found at the store is open on one counter, with creamy liquid still dripping down its neck. 

Merlin is facing away from the kitchen door, and doesn't seem to notice as Arthur slides onto a stool at the kitchen counter. Merlin puts the three filled cake pans into the oven, then rinses the bowl of the stand mixer and starts on a second batch of batter while the first bakes. Not wanting to interrupt, Arthur pulls out his sketchbook, which he hasn't touched since uni, and begins sketching while Merlin works. 

He awakens, face stuck to the sketchbook, drool obscuring what he'd drawn, when the sunlight streams in through the kitchen window. At the sound of Arthur's groans, Merlin turns around from the counter. 

Merlin has flour dusting his black hair and t-shirt, icing so dark red that it's almost black smeared across one of his cheeks, and cake batter splattered across both legs of his trousers. “Have you been in here all night?” There are several failed cakes turned out onto plates lining the counters around the room and one gorgeous three tiered dragon scale cake behind him that he was just putting the finishing touches on.

“Well, yes, I ummm, I didn't want you to feel that you were alone.” Arthur can feel his cheeks heat as he says this. He'd intended to keep Merlin company while he worked, but had instead managed to get possibly the most uncomfortable nights sleep of his life. He stands, stretching his arms straight up to ease the ache in his back and neck, and walks over to look at all of Merlin's creations. “What did you do differently on each of these?

His stretch elicits a mirroring stretch, accompanied by a huge yawn, from Merlin. But even through his sleep deprivation, Merlin manages to geek out on baking talk, mostly losing Arthur in the process. “My first batch rose perfectly in the oven, and I hoped maybe I'd be done, but then it crashed in the middle when I pulled it out if the oven and was almost like pudding.” He points at a trio of cake pans with cakey-looking sides but a deep sinkhole in the center. “I didn't even wait to see how those would turn out before starting a second set, using kahlua instead of that almond milk Bailey's, which is fantastic by the way. I'm glad you bought three bottles of it, and so many sets of pans.”

Arthur scratches his chin tiredly, hardly able to keep up with Merlin's rambling. He fills the tea kettle and pulls out two cups, interrupting to ask, “Tea?”

“Yeah, thanks. The kahlua cakes fell, just like the Bailey's. I decided that I needed to add more vegan egg replacement on the third batch, but it fell as well. And on the fourth,” he checks the notes he took while baking all night long, “the fourth batch had extra baking soda and baking powder, but that only helped minimally. At that point, I got smart.”

“‘Bout time,” Arthur teases, but says it quietly and either Merlin doesn't hear or doesn't deign to answer.

“I started researching on my laptop and found an article about the science of veganizing cake recipes. According to the article, the trick is to reduce the liquid content or increase the flour called for in the traditional cake recipe until the batter is the consistency of soft serve ice cream. I was messing up the recipe by adding the Bailey's and kahlua because there was too much moisture, but it didn't seem like the wrong consistency. The article said that vegan cake batter needs to be so thick that you'll feel like it must need just a bit more water. It also said that the egg replacers act just like additional moisture, so I was further exacerbating the problem trying different egg replacements. Getting a cake to rise is all about developing structure via protein networks. In traditional cakes, eggs do this. But in vegan cakes…”

The tea kettle begins to whistle and Arthur is pleased that it has drowned out Merlin's lecture on baking. He prepares them each a cup of English breakfast tea, choosing decaf because he really hopes that there's a nap in their immediate future, and then adds a healthy dollop of Almond Bailey's to each cup. After they each take a long sip, Arthur sighs with pleasure at the taste. “All of that's irrelevant now, Merlin.” He points at the decorated cake. “You apparently figured it out, and the icing looks gorgeous, but how does the finished cake taste?”

He's rewarded for his compliment with Merlin's beaming smile, which isn't dimmed in the slightest by his exhaustion. “Let's find out!” As he slices two pieces from the cake, he announces, “Bailey's and coffee red velvet cake with coconut cream dragon scale frosting…”

The outside of the cake is practically black, as if burnt to a crisp by a mother dragon who is heating her eggs to hatch them. But when Merlin cuts and plates it, the cake itself is a deeper red than most red velvet, more of a maroon, and it brings out the red tones of the dragon scale icing. The contrasting reds on the clean white plates is stunning. And yet...even the brilliant colors pale in comparison to the perfect blend of flavors that explodes on Arthur's tongue as he tastes the cake. He moans his appreciation, distantly noting that he's making sounds similar to what his flatmate made whilst eating Lance's triple chocolate cake, but in his opinion, this is much better. As he slowly pulls his third bite from the fork, savoring the flavors on his tongue before chewing and swallowing, he points out, “This is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth, Merlin.” He finally pulls his attention away from his piece of cake momentarily.

Merlin hasn't even tasted his yet. His fork is in his hand, with a bite halfway cut from his piece, and he's leaning casually next to Arthur with one hip against the counter, but he's standing stock still with his mouth hanging slightly open. He clicks it shut with a snap when Arthur's gaze lands on him, his skin coloring from its usual tones which practically match the coconut cream to a hue more akin to the cake. Arthur wonders what that was all about as Merlin turns to his piece, taking a bite without seeming to even taste it, saying, “I'm glad you like it. Maybe we'll win today.” Then, registering the flavors and textures on his tongue, closing his eyes to better allow his sense of taste to take over, “Oh my god, you're right Arthur! This is divine!” 

His moans of appreciation make Arthur wonder...but no, probably not. Regardless of whether Merlin was watching, and listening, to him enjoy the cake earlier, Arthur can't seem to pull his eyes away from the sight of Merlin's tongue tangling with the fork to capture every speck of icing, or stop his ears from appreciating the unconscious sounds of pleasure that the cake elicits. Arthur finishes his piece, and then a second, unsure whether the taste, the sight, or the sounds are his favorite part of the morning. 

They mutually agree that sleep is the next order of business, and if a thought flits across Arthur's mind that he wouldn't be opposed to curling up next to his flatmate for a nap, he doesn't allow that thought to escape as words. He also doesn't allow it to keep him awake as he slides into his sheets - not for even a few minutes - but he doesn't mind that the thought seems to take over his dreams. And he really doesn't mind that Merlin's extremely vocal appreciation of cake takes a starring role in those dreams.

\-----

That evening, as Arthur drives them to the Great Albion Bake-Off, he revels in the feeling of control that consumes him while driving his Lotus Elise. The feeling highlights just how out of control his emotions have been lately. And by lately, he's not sure if he's referring to this entire year, or...more recent changes in his life that he hardly even wants to admit to himself. Regardless, driving his luxurious sports car that handles as if it can read his mind, reacting to his subtle movements in steering almost before he realizes that he's made an adjustment, he feels in complete control over everything in his life. 

But glancing over at his passenger, who looks more uncomfortable and is being less talkative than Arthur has ever seen him, gives the lie to that feeling. “Alright, Merlin?”

Merlin appears to try to be convincing, but his attempt is pitiful. “Absolutely. Just going over my recipe in my head. Don't want to forget anything.”

Arthur knows that there's more to it, something that Merlin isn't telling him, but he decides not to press for more right now. They're almost to the bake-off site, and he wants to focus on being in control for a while longer.

There are a few other cars in the lot when they arrive. Arthur recognizes Gwen's lime green Volkswagen bug and his sister's silver Rolls Royce Phantom. Percy is just getting out of a black truck with a thin girl, whose small stature is magnified by Percy’s height and bulk. Arthur is pretty sure he's never seen her before, but she looks vaguely familiar. 

Merlin catches him staring and tells him, “That's Freya. She's been to every show that Percy and the Knights have played. I think she fancies Percy, but don't know if he's managed to overcome his shyness to actually ask her out yet. He'd be crazy not to. She's an absolute delight, really kind and just as beautiful on the inside as out.” Percy and Freya cross the drawbridge to join Lance, Gwen, Gwaine, and Morgana by the gothic double doors of the faux castle that houses The Great Albion Bake-Off.

Arthur catches the wistful tone in his flatmate's comment and resolves to play matchmaker for Merlin and Freya if Percy isn't romantically interested in her. He refuses to acknowledge the hollow feeling that swells in the chest as he makes this plan.

As the pair of them get out of Arthur's car, more of their friends pull into the lot. Arthur enjoys the flush of pride that zings through him as Merlin excitedly greets Leon, Elyan, and Mordred. He can't remember ever having been as pleased about giving a birthday gift as he is this one. 

Leon is with Mithian, the CEO of one of Camelot Industry's largest competitors. Are they dating? Not that he could blame Leon if they were - she's a beautiful woman with a solid head for business, and yet has always struck him as being fair and honest. Arthur makes a mental note to pull Leon aside at some point to get the details of their relationship.

When Elyan wraps his arm around a beauty with dark hair, creamy white skin, and pouty bright red lips, Arthur can't help giving an internal “Go Elyan!” cheer. But as Elyan introduces his date, Nimueh, her smile seems a bit off - predatory even - and her greeting of “We're going to slaughter you!” strikes even Arthur as prematurely competitive. They haven't even reached the door of the bake-off castle yet. Trying not to let his tone convey his disapproval, he simply replies, “A pleasure to meet you.”

He then turns to the third couple, shaking hands with each of them. “Mordred and Kara, right? Merlin pointed you out to me the other night at the show. I'm Arthur Pendragon. Nice to finally meet you.” 

Kara gushes her response, “It's great to meet you too. How long have you and Merlin been dating? You're obviously a great boyfriend, setting up this awesome birthday gift for him!! He's such a great guy! I'm so glad he's found someone who treats him like he deserves! Thank you so much for letting Percy include us!” 

Arthur hasn't even admitted to himself that he might possibly be interested in dating Merlin, so having it said out loud, for Merlin to hear that someone else assumes it is already happening feels completely wrong. Arthur immediately sets Kara straight, “Oh, no. Merlin and I are just flatmates.” Then to make it absolutely clear, he adds, “He's only staying with me until his flat is repaired. We're not actually friends. I'm just letting him live at my place as a favor to Lance.” As soon as the words leave his lips, and Merlin stiffens at his side, he knows that they didn't come out quite the way he meant, but before he can correct them, Merlin yells “Tristan! Isolde!” and darts away to hug a ruggedly good-looking older man and the beautiful sun-kissed woman on his arm. Arthur lamely corrects his words to Mordred and Kara alone, “I meant, we weren't even friends before he moved in.”

When Merlin's uncle Gaius and his wife Alice arrive in an antique MG convertible, their party of eighteen fills the entry of the castle, chatting excitedly while they wait for the doors to open. Arthur counts, then double checks his count, trying to determine who they're missing to have twenty contestants, but he doesn't have room to make his way over to his sister to find out who else she'd invited. Lance confirms that Gauis, Alice, and Merlin’s old D&D mates Tristan and Isolde were the ones that he’d added and that Percy added Freya, Morded, and Kara. When the doors open, and an elderly gentleman steps out, Arthur decides that it doesn’t matter who else was invited, because they’re obviously a no show.

“Good evening, I am Sir Geoffrey,” the man’s crisp accent somehow manages to be simultaneously reserved and yet booming, so that his words carry over the conversations that the friends were having while they waited. “Welcome to The Great Albion Bake-Off, please...enter the castle.” 

The inside of the building is just as faithful to giving the impression of a castle as the outside, though significantly smaller than what Arthur would expect of any real castle. The walls are a white stone, and are dissected by five arched stained glass windows on either side of the room. Arthur is amused to note that the people in the stained glass are all dressed as knights, but are wielding rolling pins, spatulas, and whisks. Aligned with the five windows in two neat columns are ten long counters, containing everything the teams will need to compete: measuring cups, mixing bowls, stand mixers similar to the one in Arthur's kitchen, small stove tops, and an even smaller sink. The back wall of the room is covered with ovens, one for each team, and two large double doored stainless steel refrigerators, although, Arthur notices signs above them designating only one as a fridge and the other as a freezer. Another set of double doors, currently open, leads into a pantry that Arthur guesses is filled with the plates and ingredients that the contestants will need to compete their challenge.

He has somehow managed to end up next to Merlin, and leans over, intending to apologize. “Merlin, I…”

“Shhh, I'm trying to listen to Geoffrey.” Although Arthur is sure that Merlin would truly be interested in listening to the droning introduction the old fellow is giving, he's also certain that Merlin is angry with him and shushing him in retaliation. But then, Merlin suddenly clutches onto his bicep with both hands, and begins bouncing up and down on his toes excitedly. “Oh my god, Arthur! Oh god! It's! Oh wow, it really is! That's Noel Fielding!! You didn't tell me that we were going to have a celebrity judge for our competition! Oh god. I've been in love with him since I was fifteen!”

As Arthur is learning to expect when he's around his flatmate, his emotions include a smorgasbord of highs and lows, and some twisty feeling in his gut that he doesn't want to examine very closely. All he knows is that he’d been enjoying Merlin's excitement, until it suddenly turned into excitement about someone else.

Arthur studies the someone else intently. He's really almost an exact opposite of Arthur himself, other than maybe their height. Where Arthur has short, intentionally disarrayed golden blonde hair, he has a shaggy black mess; where Arthur has refined taste in clothing, even when dressing casually, he is wearing the most ostentatious multi-colored button down that's practically a dress with a feather boa that clashes; where Arthur is bloody gorgeous, he has a nose that is a bit too large for his face, a face that's a bit too large for his body, and more flab than muscle. Arthur simply can't find anything about this guy that would spark such a strong reaction in his flatmate.

Before Arthur can say anything - and really, he has no idea what he would have said - his sister, evil witch that she is, shoves Merlin from behind, so that he stumbles out in front of their entire group and is face to face with Noel - who the bloody hell is this weirdo anyway - Fielding...who Merlin has been in love with for over a quarter of his life. Merlin, who he has just managed to push away just as soundly as Morgana has, by saying that they aren't even friends. Could today possibly get any worse?


	2. Morgana

Morgana can't resist flashing her most mischievous smile at her brother - the one that he calls her evil witch smirk - after she pushes Merlin up to meet the man he just admitted that he's idolized since he was a teenager. She shouts, “The birthday boy wants to meet you, Noel!!” Morgana has to admit to herself that she was a huge fan of his as well, in her goth phase at least. His role in the IT Crowd was what prompted her to start watching the show, though she stuck with it because it was rather hilarious. 

The bright red flush that floods Merlin's face and neck is adorable, as is his stuttering as Noel reaches out to shake his hand, steadying him by putting his other hand on Merlin's shoulder. “Oh, hi, happy birthday!”

“Hi, ummm, tha-th- ummm, thanks. I'm ummm, merr, ummm, my name is Merlin.” Merlin is clutching onto Noel's hand as if it's the only thing keeping him tethered to the floor.

“Merlin? Like ‘Merlin's Beard!’ in Harry Potter, yeah?” He raises the pitch of his voice and makes it sound like an old man as he quotes the wizard exclamation. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Merlin.” The rest of his words sound just like he does on tv, as if he's hiding a secretive smile to a joke that only he heard. Morgana starts to feel just a tiny bit star-struck herself. Besides IT Crowd, she did watch every episode of the Mighty Boosch, after all, and she's been known to watch...and maybe rewatch...episodes of the Big Fat Quiz of the Year just to enjoy Noel and Richard Ayoade's antics.

Merlin is obviously too enthralled to know what to say to that, so Morgana again shouts, “Merlin was just saying that he's loved you for ages.”

The smiley voice is accompanied by a genuine smile with Noel’s response to that, “Oh yeah, people say they love me sometimes, but I can't figure it out. I personally think I look like a troll wearing a woman's wig backwards.” Merlin laughs at the joke, but he's so nervous that it seems forced. Noel pulls him in closer and gives him what appears to be a bit of a pep talk, for his ears alone, and Morgana is glad to see Merlin start to relax somewhat as Mordred pulls Morgana aside for a private conversation of their own.

“I'm really glad you did that, Morgana.” Mordred's whisper is pitched so that no one around them can hear. “Poor Merlin was really blindsided by your arrogant brother a few minutes ago. I think everyone with eyes can see that Merlin is head over heels for Arthur, and yet when Kara made an assumption that they were dating, Arthur knocked him down several pegs, saying they aren't even friends.”

“My brother is an idiot, Mordred, and he's also emotionally stunted, but I didn't think that he'd intentionally hurt Merlin's feelings or dash his hopes so callously.” Morgana glances at her brother, narrowing her eyes as a plan forms. “Mordred, what would you say to helping me take Arthur out of the competition today?”

Mordred tentatively turns to see Merlin's huge smile as he chats with his idol, considering, when Kara leans in and says, “Count us in!” The three step even further away from the others as they put their heads together to formulate their plans.


	3. Lance

Even though today's competition isn't the televised reality baking show that Lance and Gwen love to cuddle up and watch together in bed - mmmm naked Gwen cuddled up next to him is his absolute favorite thing on this earth - Lance is nervously determined that he must win today. Having the bragging rights of winning the Great Albion Bake-Off, even if it is only the pay to play version of the bake off that anyone can enter, would be fantastic for business. He's been envisioning the sign that he could add to the window of Albion Coffee ever since he received Arthur's text - while he and Gwen were cuddled up in bed - naked, with their limbs entangled so that he could touch as much of her silky skin as possible throughout the night - mmmmm. He tugs on her hand, clutched in his, to pull her body up against his, breathes in the scent of her hair, honeysuckle and orange blossoms, and then nuzzles his face into her neck and inhales the faint scent of vanilla that lingers on her skin from her body lotion. 

Even as he revels in his absolute adoration of his girlfriend, and the calming effect that she has on his nerves, he focuses on the instructions that Geoffrey and Noel are giving to the team. Yes, yes, the cake with the most points wins, that seems so obvious that you'd think they wouldn't even need to tell us. Ok, flavor gives the most points, then consistency and appearance, got it, then creativity in incorporating the dragon theme, and finally uniqueness of the recipe. This contest is in the bag!

He pulls Gwen closer to him, anticipating their night of celebration together, but then nerves take hold for a moment as Geoffrey explains that there are two additional, secret, judging factors, set up specifically for tonight's birthday event. Without knowing what he'll be judged on, there's a chance that he and Gwen might not win. He needs to win! He knows that he's the best baker in this room, and he needs to prove it to everyone else. And if he doesn't win, then he won't get to enjoy the night of celebratory love-making that he just envisioned. Will Gwen think less of him if he doesn't best everyone else? He squeezes her hand three times, in the secret code that they use, telling her “I” squeeze “love” squeeze “you” squeeze. She returns the gesture, smiling up at him without any hesitation or demands, and he releases a pent up breath of stress that he didn't even realize he'd been holding. 

Sure, they might not win the competition, but no matter how it goes, he gets to go home with the love of his life, the center of his world, the most beautiful soul he's ever had the pleasure of meeting. He imagines the night that they'll spend together if he needs consolation for losing the competition, and that brings the calm that he needs. Besides, who could possibly top his dark chocolate vegan cake with dark chocolate chili ganache and chocolate cinnamon swiss vegan buttercream? Not to mention Gwen's brilliant idea to ice it with House Targaryen colored dragon scales to tie in the dragon theme. They've got this in the bag! Albion Coffee will soon have a sign that says “Winner of the Great Albion Bake-Off,” and best of all, Lance is the biggest winner every single day of his life that he gets to hold the hand, kiss the lips, and touch the beautiful skin of the most gorgeous, compassionate, and loving woman in the world.


	4. Percival

Percival glances down at the slip of a girl at his side, her tiny hand encased in his, her leg pressed tightly against his as she studies the room with a look that he decides is contemplative excitement. She really does look like a little girl, even though she's only two years his junior: petite, fragile, precious, unlike anyone else he's ever dated. Hah. Dated. There's a euphemism for you...this weekend with Freya marks both the first and second actual dates of his life. 

Every single encounter with a woman prior to her has been literally that...an encounter. Sometimes repeat encounters with the same woman, but never, ever, a date. Percival has never, before now, asked a woman out or gone to dinner or a movie with anyone other than friends. No, in Percival's experience, women approach him, usually in a bar, and take him home for a wild night of passion. After which, he has always, every single time, gone home to sleep in his own bed, with his own feelings of loneliness and emptiness unsated by the experience. Of course the physical satisfaction is typically off the charts, and worth the effort...or at least...it used to be. 

Several years ago, Gwaine noticed that Percy hardly had to speak to get lucky, and bet him that he couldn't score without saying a single word all night. Percival had won that bet, within the hour, thanks in part to Gwaine’s own attempts to woo the most beautiful woman in the room. “Hello, gorgeous, I'm Gwaine, and this is my mate, Percy.” Percival had almost winced at that introduction, as he always did, because he's hated that nickname since the day he met Gwaine, when Gwaine decided that Percival was too many syllables for him to bother with. Even Percival's parents now call him Percy thanks to his best mate's influence.

But when Percival smiled at the woman, sucking the leftover foam from a sip of beer off his lips as he let his gaze drop to her mouth, she became almost predatory, “Well aren't you a big fella? Wanna go back to my place?” Gwaine had gone home with her friend, and Percy had decided then and there that talking to women was too much trouble. His permanent M.O. from that day forward was to speak as little as possible to women during his - encounters. If a woman wanted him based on looks alone, used him for his body - while, granted, he was doing the same - then she didn't deserve his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams...or his words.

But Freya is different. Even though she approached him after a show several weeks ago, she just wanted to say hi. She didn't proposition him, like every other woman in his life has done. And she returned show after show, dancing while his band played, and then smiling shyly at him as they exchanged a word or two at the end of the night. She's just as shy as he is, and their weeks of stolen glances and timid conversations has felt like a mutual taming of two feral animals. 

When Arthur suggested this bake-off, Percival knew that it was a golden opportunity to finally ask Freya on a date, via text, of course. This seemed so much easier than going out to dinner, where they'd have to think of things to talk about the entire time, or else sit in awkward silence. What he didn't expect was that she'd agree and then suggest that they spend all day Saturday practicing cake ideas. He also didn't expect that he'd invite her to his flat - he'd never had a woman in his flat, other than Morgana and Gwen when they stopped by with his mates. Freya had suggested a How To Train Your Dragon cake, and brought the first two DVDs over to watch while they worked. Completely unfathomable was the fact that they'd spent the entire day together with nary an awkward moment, and at the end of the day, they'd gone on the first real date of his life: to see How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World. 

After the movie, they went back to his flat, and made out on his couch for most of the night, until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Adding to the list of firsts: for the first time in his life, Percival kissed a woman without any intention of moving beyond the kissing. They were the most passionate kisses of his life. There was something to be said for allowing the simple act of kissing to be the destination, rather than a quick stop on the road to sex. 

Looking at Freya now, Percival is fully prepared to spend several more dates with kissing as the end goal, exploring all of the joys of Freya’s mouth before he even considers taking another step. 

And when they woke up this morning, he made a decision. Her sleepy smile made him happier than any encounter with a woman ever had, and he wanted, in that moment, to share every thought, and hope, and dream with Freya. Of course, not all at once, but over time. And most of all, when she sleepily said “Good morning, Percy.” and then glanced down shyly, he decided that he wanted her to call him Percival.

Her tug on his hand, like a flag tugging on a castle wall, brings him back to the present. He follows her to their table, realizing that he's completely missed all of the instructions, and perhaps rules, that the judges were giving while he was lost in his own thoughts...but figures he can wing it. The recipe that he and Freya chose is pretty straightforward. It had to be, because the plan is for him to make the simple cake by himself while she sculpts figures to put on top. Hopefully, she'll finish up her figures in time to take over icing the cake after he puts a crumb layer on the square two layered cake he's making. He chuckles inwardly - not that anyone around would know it from his lack of outward change - he just thought the phrase ‘crumb layer’ as if he knew what he was doing. In reality, everything he knows about baking a cake was taught to him yesterday by the lovely little pixie at his side.

Yeah, for the first time in his life, Percival feels like he's met his match.


	5. Mithian

Mithian is all business as she and Leon prep their workstation, retrieve the items they need from the pantry, and begin working on their cake. But then, Mithian is always all business, isn't she? That's one of the main complaints that men she's dated in the past have about her: that she doesn't know how to let loose and enjoy herself. But really, what's wrong with being focused? Goal oriented? She knows what she wants and aims to get it.

She glances at Leon as he works beside her. With his lions mane of shaggy ginger hair, his hipster beard, and his deliciously tight black skinny jeans, he doesn't look like the kind of guy who would appreciate her staid determined approach to life, and yet, they'd known each other - from negotiations between Nemeth Corporation and Camelot Industries, as well as a few meetings and marketing events - for years before he'd called her out of the blue on Saturday morning to ask her to be his partner for this bake-off. When she'd agreed, he'd cleared his throat, as if nervous, though she'd never seen him show any signs of nerves before, and clarified that he'd like for her to be his partner, and date, for the bake-off. After all this time of being...colleagues...certainly he's aware of her personality, right? 

Although perhaps he thinks that the Mithian he's seen all of these years is her CEO persona, and that she'll let loose when they're away from work. Maybe he just thinks she's pretty and...desperate? Please no!...so he's hoping to get lucky? But really, she's never pegged him as that type, so she shouldn't assume the worst. 

No, she's going to take this at face value, and assume that he asked her out because he respects the Mithian that he's worked with over the years, because he appreciates her just as she is, and because he wants to get to know her better...without any expectation of her changing or being any different than she is at work. God, she'd give up her own company for a man who could love her like that. The thought is fleeting, and she scoffs at it almost as soon as it is formed in her head. She's much too logical, as well as loyal to her father's vision for the company, for that kind of frivolity. And just think of everyone who would lose their jobs if Nemeth folded. No, she doesn't know where the thought came from, and she refuses to give it another moment of her time.

Still...she catches herself watching him as he carefully shreds carrots for their cake, while she measures the dry ingredients. Like her, he seems just as serious about today's task as he has when they've met during work functions. They'd selected the recipe and decoration plan via text yesterday, and then divvied up their tasks in a time-oriented manner. So far, they're both staying on schedule with their tasking, and haven't had to make any changes to their plan on the fly.

Maybe the phrase ‘opposites attract’ is wrong, maybe she and Leon could find happiness in their mutual appreciation of quiet efficiency and steadfast reliability. And she wouldn't have to give up anything, except the loneliness of being a single woman who is CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Of course, she's getting ahead of herself. This is their first date, after all. 

As she begins mixing the batter, she is pleased to see that Leon has moved on to methodically chopping pecans. While she folds the carrots, fresh pineapple chunks, and pecans into her cake batter, Leon greases three round pans, and then brings them over to let her fill them. Then he holds open the oven door for her to slide the pans in to begin baking their cake. If there was an award for the most organized and synchronized team, she's sure that they would win it. 

She takes a moment to glance around, noting that they're the first to have cakes in the oven. Well, of course they are. They aren't wasting time with disorganization like everyone else. Speaking of disorganization, though, she's never seen such chaos as the people surrounding her. Everyone is running to and fro, teammates are bickering over who should do what, Merlin is singing along to some 80’s tune that they're playing over the sound system, and Arthur and Mordred appear to be on the verge of a fist fight. 

Mithian didn't allow herself to feel smug over being the first team with cakes in the oven, but she doesn't mind letting just a hint of self-satisfaction creep into her smile at the sights and sounds surrounding her...and then she promptly turns her attention back to the plan.


	6. Kara

Kara simply can't understand how someone could give off such mixed signals. Arthur Pendragon is by far the most obtuse, conceited, emotionally constipated person she has ever had the misfortune of meeting. First, he has the brilliant idea to host this birthday party bake-off for Merlin, then he foots the bill for everyone to attend rather than trying to get everyone to pay their share, but he follows up those two magnificent actions by smashing poor Merlin's feelings into the ground and then grinding them with the heel of his assuredly expensive Italian leather shoes...aren't even friends! As if!!

No one, literally no one, who has ever met Merlin could fail to recognize that he is one of those rare human beings who everyone adores. He is everyone's friend! Kara counts him as one of the people that she respects most highly in this world. Couple that with the fact that, for the first time in more than a year of knowing Merlin, he has shown - very subtly, she must admit - interest in someone romantically. It is simply beyond her to let that spark of romance be blown out without wanting to do something to ease Merlin's pain.

So, yeah, she jumped on Morgana's plan with both feet, dragging Mordred along for the ride. They simply had to do something to cheer Merlin up. And since he'd openly admitted his love for Noel Fielding, well, why not help him along.

But right now, Mordred is completely buggering up the whole plan. It was pretty simple, really. Take Arthur out of the equation by ‘accidentally’ spilling something on him. Then, when he went to the restroom to clean himself off, Mordred was supposed to place the bar down across the door. Those bars are supposedly there just for looks, but Kara had surreptitiously checked, and they'd totally work to truly bar the door. With the 80’s soundtrack that Noel had announced was being played by special request for the birthday boy - requested by the guy who claims not to be his friend, no less - no one would even hear Arthur as he called to be let out. 

But Mordred wasn't supposed to be so obvious. He had walked past Arthur at their table, carrying a blender full of what amounted to strawberry smoothie, figuring there'd be no way Arthur would just deal with having that all over his clothes without going to wash it out. Mordred had pretended to trip, and spilled the blended strawberries, but Arthur's reflexes were too quick. He'd caught Mordred in one arm and the blender in the other, and only a small bit had spilled...down Mordred's shirt. In his annoyance at having his plan backfire, he'd apparently let his animosity at Arthur take over, and now he and Arthur are on the verge of a physical altercation. Even Merlin is glowering at Mordred.

Their plan wasn't supposed to make Merlin even more upset! Certainly not! Whilst Arthur deserves what's coming to him, Merlin deserves to have the best day ever, and Mordred is currently as much the problem as the royal pain in the arse Pendragon.

“Mordred!” she snaps, “Now that you've spilled our strawberries,” he hadn't actually, “we have to rethink our cake flavor,” it was never actually going to be strawberry flavored, “Please stop goofing off with Arthur and Merlin and help me figure out a new approach!” She puts extra emphasis on the final two words of her sentence, trying to remind Mordred of their plan. It's more important to take Arthur out than for Mordred to appease his pride right now. That pompous jerk needs to be put in his place by someone, and Kara is determined that today will be the day for that to happen.


	7. Gauis

When the contest begins, Gaius shuffles to the table at the very back of the room to wait for that odd fellow to say the thing he says on the tele to start the baking...on your mark...bake...or something like that. Alice might prefer to be more in the thick of things - that baking show is one of her favorites, after all - but Gaius doesn't even leave time for a discussion, just beelining for a table with her trailing in his wake. Proximity to the pantry will be very useful if he forgets an ingredient or two - goodness knows, even though he has all of his wits about him, somehow age still plays little tricks on his mind, making him forget what he was after the moment he enters a room to get it - but more importantly, being at the back of the room allows him to enjoy one of his favorite pastimes: people watching. Even better, today, all of the people under his watchful gaze are friends of his favorite, his only, nephew, Merlin.

Gaius is absolutely thrilled to see just how wonderfully his nephew has settled in to his new life. He's made so many friends, and has a boyfriend who plans extravagant birthday surprises like this bake-off and even thinks to include Merlin's relatives and old friends from Ealdor. Yes, Gaius congratulates himself on convincing Hunith and Merlin that the best thing for Merlin was to get out of that small town. 

When Merlin's first boyfriend, Will - his only boyfriend other than Arthur so far as Gaius knows - died in a car crash over a year ago, Merlin sank into a deep despair. Hunith was beside herself with worry, and it took months for Gaius to overcome Merlin's arguments that leaving Ealdor would take him away from everything that reminded him of Will. Although that was exactly the reason that Gaius was suggesting Merlin leave, he had to do so tactfully, to ensure that Merlin understood that he wasn't asking Merlin to forget his friend, his love, he was simply hoping the boy could find peace through distance from his memories. 

It appears that Merlin has done so. Now that that fellow Mordred has stopped flirting with Merlin’s beau and gone back to his own table, Merlin is happily singing along to the music his mother grew up listening to, and in her turn raised her son on. And yet, Gaius can also see that he hasn't forgotten Will, nor lost Will’s considerable influence on him, since Will was the one who loved to cook. Because they were neighbors their whole lives, there are too many parts of Merlin's personality that were formed by his friendship with Will, and vice versa, to pinpoint many and say “That's something he picked up from Will,” except for the love of cooking. 

Will’s parents both worked so many hours that he was a latchkey kid, often going without meals unless he was able to scrounge something from their bare pantry. When he was four years old, he timidly asked Hunith to teach him to cook, and from that day forward, he was in her kitchen as often as not. If Merlin wanted to spend time with his best friend, he couldn't help but be in the kitchen with Will and Hunith too. It had made Gaius glad every time he visited, to see the three of them bonding over the making of good food while singing 80s songs that would now be considered oldies - though Gaius still considers it to be ‘that new alternative noise’. 

And now, it heals a wound in his heart that he hardly even knew was there, to know that Merlin is able to cook and sing, and surely remember his oldest friend, while smiling and enjoying the company of his new ones.

“Gaius!” Alice calls his name in that tone of voice that he knows means that it isn't the first time. “Earth to Gaius! Stop staring off into space and muttering to yourself like a doddering old fool.” Her mischievous smile softens the accusation.

Even though they both know that she's mostly teasing, Gaius doesn't even give that statement the benefit of a verbal response, merely giving his trademark ‘you're in trouble now’ look - the one where he raises his eyebrow and refrains from cracking a smile no matter how humorous the situation. It's the look that tormented Merlin and Will every time they got into trouble as children, and that Merlin admitted as a teenager they had nicknamed the Eyebrow of Doom.

Of course, it has no effect on his wife. She's immune after all of these years. She simply chuckles, pats him lovingly on the arm, and says, “Now that I have your attention, I'll ask for the fourth time: did you remember to get the dragonfruit and kumquats from the pantry?” She laughs at him when he starts with the realization that he's not only missed her question three times, but has also forgotten two of the main ingredients of their simple cake. “Honestly, Gaius, I know that you don't care about winning, but I would at least like to have a finished cake by the end of the contest.” 

He puts the eyebrow away and allows his own laughter to bubble up in response to hers. “My dear, have I told you lately that you're just as lovely as the day we met?” When she laughs, which is often, he is usually struck by an overwhelming wave of nostalgia for all of the wonderful years that they've shared this easy relationship, mixed with a heavy dose of gratefulness that they still have each other. So many people aren't so lucky. Will and Merlin weren't...Hunith and Balinor...

She leans in to kiss him on the cheek, “Only every time I laugh, my darling. Now go get that fruit.”


	8. Elyan

God, my date is so hot! Elyan just keeps repeating this thought in his head over and over, every time he looks at Nimueh, or Nim, as she said to call her. But then, she keeps ruining it whenever she parts those luscious red lips to speak...every single word that comes out of her mouth is just so...bitchy! Completely and utterly rude and presumptuous...and patronizing. He'd been completely entranced by her from the moment she approached him after Friday's show. It had seemed only natural, then, to ask if she'd like to be his date to the bake-off after he'd received Arthur's text. 

But now, seeing how intent she is on winning, Elyan can't help questioning...were he and the guys already talking about Arthur's invitation while they packed up after their show? Did she, perhaps, hear them and only then decided to chat him up? He would have sworn that she'd spoken to him before the text came through, but now he's not sure anymore.

“Elyan,” Nim snaps her fingers to get his attention, “head in the game! I need you to roll this red fondant until it is thin and even, about the thickness of a coin. Then cut forty-two of these larger circles and thirty-eight of the smaller.” She pushes two round cookie cutters of different sizes across their table to him, then holds a rolling pin by one handle with the other pointed toward him to grab. “Got it?” Her tone is so demanding. She sounds like a parent, speaking to her disobedient child and giving him one last chance to behave. But damn, it's actually kind of hot. He takes the rolling pin and gets to work.

Before today, Elyan has always dated women who were more similar to his sister: kind, soft spoken, elegantly graceful, with an understated natural beauty...not exactly meek, but not exactly not meek either. Nim is in a category of her own though. She's gorgeous, and she knows it; she's forceful, not waiting around for a man to take charge, but ready to take charge herself. She seems to be blunt, outspoken, and honest. At least, he hopes that's true. This damsel is not in distress and doesn't need to be saved by a knight in shining armor. But...who knew?...Elyan finds this more than a little stimulating. 

He surreptitiously adjusts things to be sure it isn't obvious just how much he appreciates his date, and glances around the room to check if anyone has noticed. Not surprisingly, everyone is focused on other things, but he is surprised to see that the baking isn't necessarily the main focus for everyone in the room. The two hosts - one an old man and the other a strange young guy - are playing a game of ping pong across a small table using antique looking books as paddles. However, no one even seems to be paying them much attention either. 

The few of his friends who aren't fully concentrating on their baking are focused on Arthur, Merlin, and Mordred. Elyan wonders what that's all about. He begins rolling out the fondant, attention still half focused on the drama surrounding him...until Nim commands him otherwise with a fierce glare.


	9. Morgause

Morgause is fuming. Stupid Cenred and his stupid antique car. He's fiddling around at the back of the car, but how exactly is messing around in the boot supposed to get them moving again? She'd almost asked Morgana to give them a ride today, but Cenred had insisted that Carmy the Immortal Carmengia needed the attention. She couldn't care less about what the CAR needs, she needed to be off enjoying herself at the bake-off with her cousin over thirty minutes ago! But now they're broken down on the side of the road in the ass of nowhere. She really needs to get her own wheels, or at least a more reliable boyfriend with a more reliable car.

“Cenred! Have you almost got it sorted yet? If not, I'm calling an uber!! Morgana's texted seven times already to get our ETA.” He doesn’t answer, but finally opens the hood of the car. Maybe he'll actually manage to fix something now. Her text notification pings with message number eight, and she lifts the phone from her lap, shading it with one hand to read the latest message, only peripherally noticing that Cenred has moved to the back of the car again.

Morgana: WHERE R U? Rly need your help sabotaging my brother!!

Morgause snickers. Harassing Arthur when the three of them get together has always been a favorite pastime...although, come to think of it, they aren't currently together, and she isn't currently harassing Arthur! 

“Cenred!!??” Just as she finishes yelling for him, he hops back into the driver's seat and turns the ignition.

“All done. Had a bit of an oil leak. Even the Immortal Carmy can't function without it's life blood. Lucky I always keep a few bottles of oil and some tools.” His smile, which she has always found just a touch oily, gives new meaning to the word today, with oil smeared across one cheek. Whatever. They're on their way now and she is determined to enjoy herself today. She can wait till tomorrow to start thinking about finding a boyfriend who does a better job of meeting her needs.

She glances back down at her phone to check the time then demands, “Can't this thing go any faster?” She's pretty sure that he once told her that the top speed with stock parts was pretty slow, but that he'd souped his up for speed. And when he smiles at her and floors it, the car practically jumps forward, engine roaring joyfully. With the wind whipping his long black hair back, a look of pure glee on his face, while he breaks every traffic law to get her where she wants to be, she's reminded of why she stays with him. Yeah, maybe she won't look for a new boyfriend just yet.

Ten minutes later, they're whipping into the lot of the Albion Bake-off, tires squealing as Cenred takes the turn too fast and then continues an almost 360 degree circle right into a parking spot, where he slides to a stop perfectly in between the lines. It is, without a doubt, the first thing he's done right all day. “Impressive.” Morgause murmurs almost inaudibly, not really in the mood to compliment him, but impressed despite her wish not to be. 

Now that they're actually here, Morgause isn't overly worried about their tardiness causing her to lose the competition. She found the most awesome cake pan in the world - a dragon curled around three dragon eggs - so all she needs to do is make the batter, bake the cake, and drizzle a glaze on top while it's still hot. She's got this! She grabs her oversized purse that holds the cake pan and a non-descript ziptop bag filled with powdered cake mix, and heads inside, refusing to look flustered, but still adding a quickness to her steps that she would usually worry makes her look less dignified.

As Cenred catches up to her and matches his long stride to hers, he asks, “Morgause, darling, what do you need me to do to assist with the competition?”

Really? He's only just now considering what might need to be done for the competition? A little late for planning, isn't it? Good thing she's always planning, always thinking of what needs to be done, and preparing. “Just...don't get in my way,” she snaps, then thinks to add, “but stay nearby in case I need something.” 

The castle is actually rather impressive, for a building that was only made to host baking competitions, but Morgause doesn't allow herself to slow enough to really appreciate the architecture. She enters the great hall, coming to a stop for only a second to scan the tables and find the empty one at the very back, and then heads straight for it, content that the back table will allow her to use her contraband cake mix rather than having to fuss with complex measurements, ingredients, and such.

After dropping her cake pan onto the counter of her workspace, she grabs the bowl of the mixer and takes it into the pantry, with her purse still on her shoulder. “Oil the pan and turn on the oven,” she tells Cenred, hoping he can take care of such simple tasks without her oversight. Once in the pantry, she empties the cake mix into the bowl, adds four eggs, and then tosses in a packet of instant vanilla pudding per the instructions of the shopkeep who sold her the pan, and carries it back to her counter to add three and a half cups of water. Feeling extremely smug, she turns on the mixer and watches as planning mixes with research to blend into success and a certain win.

She checks that the pan is oiled and then pours her batter in, happy that the shopkeep also explained the need for a heat core in order to bake such a large cake evenly. And then, within eight minutes of their arrival, she's placing the cake into the oven and is ready to enjoy harassing her cousin for forty-five minutes of bake time...well, with a minute or two thrown in to make the glaze. She glances back at her phone to check the time again and set a timer app. They'll be done with almost ten minutes to spare!

“Cenred, be a dear and wash the mixer while I go to give my love to my cousin, will you?” She doesn't wait for his answer, because honestly, if the man doesn't do something to make himself useful, then why bother keeping him around?

On her way to Morgana's table, she goes around the outside of the room, out of the way, but a perfect excuse to hip check Arthur accidentally, pushing him into the edge of his counter and making him bump into the raven-haired boy working beside him. “Ooops, sorry Arthur dear.” She adds enough saccharine to her tone that the falsity of her statement is clear.

“Good to see you too,” Arthur says through clenched teeth, following with a muttered, “brat!” under his breath. Yes, their relationship is most definitely a love-hate sort of thing...they love to hate one another...because it's so much more fun than forcing themselves to be civil to each other.

Morgause has always resented Arthur because he’s always had everything that she wishes she’d grown up with: money, power...a life of ease. Morgana on the other hand - for some reason Morgause has never felt that Morgana deserved her ire, even though she was raised in the same household as Arthur. Their father actually typically treated Morgana better than Arthur, without the same condescending dissatisfaction with everything Arthur tried, and yet somehow, Morgause has always seen Arthur, but not Morgana, as a spoiled rich kid. It probably has everything to do with their maturity levels and the fact that Arthur truly acts like an oblivious, spoiled rich kid, whereas Morgana has always been well aware of her privilege and has tried to offset it through her kindness to others. Or, maybe Morgause is just biased. 

Either way, she weaves her way through the contestants to hug and air kiss her favorite cousin.


	10. Tristan

Tristan did not get to this point in his life through good looks and luck alone. No, his greatest assets are his powers of observation and his ability to read a situation. He's always felt that he would have been an excellent warrior in medieval times. That's probably why he loves Dungeons and Dragons so much, actually. 

But today, his observations seem to be at odds with his intuition. He dearest friend Merlin, for instance, is all smiles, singing along to his favorite tunes, but his body language conveys another story to Tristan. Something has Merlin wound as tight as a bowstring, and Tristan would wager it has everything to do with that imbecile Pendragon, who is supposed to be on Merlin's team, but so far as Tristan has seen, hasn't done anything to help Merlin. Physically or mentally, unless Tristan misses his mark...and Tristan never misses his mark. 

The curly haired boy, Mordred, seems to be over his anger at Pendragon, and seems to have moved on to focus on the competition, but Tristan is certain that he and his girlfriend aren't done battling Arthur in other ways yet. There's an air of conspiracy surrounding them that also encompasses Morgana and is beginning to circle the blonde lady who has just hugged and kissed Morgana as well. Interestingly however, Morgana's husband Gwaine, though he has the definite signs of being a trickster, is completely uninvolved in this conspiracy. That makes Tristan even more wary, worried that the plans are more nefarious than Gwaine would condone. 

The two hosts might be the exception to today's dichotomy. They appear outwardly to be relaxed, as they stop their buffoonery and begin chatting up the bakers...and Tristan's instincts agree that they really are relaxed and rather goofy - the older one, Geoffrey, goofy in his pomposity, and the younger one, Noel, more intentionally ridiculous. He listens in on some of their idle chit chat with the contestants to be sure, and his suspicions are confirmed as he hears Noel tell Merlin “I learn so much watching people bake, but I still don't know a thing about baking. It all goes in during the show and then it all goes out on the walk home. After two years working on the tv show, I still don't even know what ganache is.”

Tristan can't hear Merlin's reply, but Noel answers, “Geoffrey's an old friend of the family, so I'm just helping out because his usual help couldn't make it. But the fun part for me is that I get to judge today. I'm just the host on the tele.” Tristan is pretty sure that there's no chance of any threat from the goth poof.

Then there's the usual sexual tension between some of the teams. Tristan sees couples who are obviously comfortable in their relationship and deeply in love and others who he'd wager have only just begun to explore their feelings for one another. The lovers on each of those teams are wholly focused on one another, so Tristan is certain that he can drop his watch of them...but then again, an unwatched adversary is often the one who manages to get the jump on you. 

But the most disturbing is the long haired fellow who just arrived with the blonde. Tristan’s distrust of him is likely magnified by the fact that the man is working at the table directly behind him and Isolde. Though outwardly casual, he radiates a menace that makes Tristan's skin crawl. 

Isolde, always the perfect partner in every way, appears just as aware of the undercurrents of turmoil around them, and stands further from the table than necessary as she unwraps the simple cake decorations that they purchased for the competition. “Oooh, Tristan, look at this gorgeous dragon decoration I bought.” He knows exactly what it looks like, because he helped pick it out, but that's not at all the point of her actions. God he loves her so much, for being so perfect for him...like the missing half of his soul, put upon the earth just to ease his mind in situations like this. 

He turns from their counter to admire the dragon decoration, and in so doing, is able to make a much more thorough assessment, if peripherally, of the black-haired man. 

“Look how it sparkles when I twist it.” Isolde is playing this for all its worth, giving Tristan more time to gauge the man's intentions. And, just like the rest of the room, Tristan realizes that his observations of the man don't coincide with his intuition. Even though the guy gives off an appearance of total bad-assery, his intent today includes nothing more nefarious than trying to impress his lady friend.

Of course, who's to say that his intentions couldn't change? Tristan won't let down his guard, even while he turns back to the simple batter in his mixer.


	11. Arthur

Nothing about this day is going quite how Arthur envisioned it. Although, Arthur isn't exactly sure that he ever actually thought about what would happen. He just wanted Merlin to be happy. Except, that's not quite right either, because Merlin was already very happy with his birthday celebration and all of his presents two nights ago. No, if Arthur is being honest with himself, he wanted to be the cause of Merlin's happiness. But now, despite all of his planning, Merlin is definitely not looking at him like he looked at that ridiculous dragon plushie the other night. And Arthur has no one to blame but himself. 

Or, actually, maybe he can spread the blame just a bit. He glowers at that Noel fellow with narrowed eyes, not really meaning to, but not quite able to stop himself, because all he can think when he looks at that self-important twat is ‘My Merlin. Mine. Mine. Mine. Go get your own Merlin.” And it's rather difficult not to see him as he finishes his conversation with Merlin and moves on to share his own brand of charming stupidity with Lance and Gwen. He's like a peacock in its full glory, with its feathers on display to attract a mate. His god-awful outfit drawing the eye even when you try to resist. Arthur forces himself to resist, turning away to look at the other tables around the room - the other groups competing against them.

His gaze lands on Mordred and Kara, just behind them and he adds a healthy dose of blame to Mordred for coming over here to chat Merlin up and then almost spilling a blender full of strawberry juice all over Arthur. Why that psychopath turned the situation around and got angry with Arthur for his own clumsiness is anyone's guess, but the ensuing argument did nothing to get Arthur back into Merlin's good graces. 

And Morgause deserves some blame, partially just for showing up...Arthur doesn't even think that Morgause or Cenred even know Merlin! They're just here for the free entertainment, and damn Morgana for inviting them in the first place...but then, to add insult to injury, or perhaps in this case injury to insult, Morgause's decision to walk the long way around the room just so that she could body check Arthur made him, in turn, stumble into Merlin. Merlin spilled some of his batter and had to redo some of his work. The worst part of that debacle was that Merlin didn't even call him any names or tell him off over it...not even under his breath!

Without any valid cause, Arthur finds himself spreading a bit of glower towards Percy's table, where the adorably cute nymph-like girl that Merlin called “an absolute delight” -- Arthur could just bet that Merlin has never called him an absolute delight, or anything close to it -- is beaming up at Percy while the two of them have their turn chatting with Noel Bloody Fielding, and Perce is apparently returning her interest. At least that's one problem that Arthur can mark off his to do list for the day. No chance of setting Merlin up with Freya. But somehow even that news falls to lift his spirits, because Freya was never the problem. Merlin's exuberant approval of her was.

And if it weren't for Noel (‘My Merlin!’)...and Freya (‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’)...and Mordred (‘Go get your own Merlin!’)...and all of these other people around them, Arthur would be able to talk to Merlin, to explain what he'd meant earlier. Bloody hell! He probably wouldn't have managed to offend Merlin at all if they were just alone at their flat like usual. This is a nightmare!

Whoa...could it be a bad dream? Arthur tries pinching himself, but it just hurts and doesn't actually wake him up. What else wakes people up from bad dreams? Think Arthur! Think! Think!

Arthur decides that pointing out all of the inconsistencies that might prove that this isn't reality might make him wake up. For instance, Merlin never just clams up when he's angry. Even if Arthur leaves the room, Merlin lets him have an earful of all of the ways that he's being a prat. Of course, that's usually when they're alone. And really, there's no way that Arthur's brain managed to invent this cast of characters. He's just not this creative. Besides, he's pretty sure that he's never even heard the song that Merlin is currently singing along to.

“Is it an horrific dream, Am I sinking fast?  
Could a person be so mean, As to laugh and laugh?  
On my own...Could you ease my load...Could you see my Pain...Could you please explain  
The Hurting”

No, Arthur has definitely never heard this song, much less would he remember it to add it to a dream, even though it seems to echo his own mood. He gives up on that line of thought.

He sees a single tear tracking down Merlin's cheek, and watches as Merlin surreptitiously reaches up to swipe away the evidence. Is Merlin crying because Arthur upset him? Because of all of the things he's done to ruin what was supposed to be the perfect day? He takes a step closer, planning to try again to apologize, quietly since they're surrounded. “Merlin, I…”

Merlin flinches at the sound of his voice, his shoulders hunching in slightly, before he visibly steels himself and straightens them. He doesn't turn away from his blender to talk to Arthur though, and when the next verse begins right then, Merlin doesn't refrain from singing along to give Arthur an opening to talk. 

Arthur finishes his sentence anyway, knowing its inadequate, and perhaps even inaudible but unable to say anything more over the music and Merlin's obvious desire for solitude right now. “I'm sorry.” 

Arthur lets his gaze fall from Merlin to the floor at his feet. He realizes that he's been standing here, hands on his hips, appearing to imperiously supervise Merlin's work without assisting in any way. No wonder Merlin doesn't want to talk to him. First he insults him, then he spends the day glowering and acting superior.

As ‘that Noel fellow’ shouts in a silly sing-song voice “Bakers, you have one hour remaining!”, Arthur remembers that he has his own task to do today, a plan to convince Merlin that they're a great team...a plan made before he buggered everything up, but perhaps it will be enough to make up for it nonetheless…and he almost managed to forget to even put it into action.

Arthur strides into the pantry, rummaging around for the items he needs. He finds a basket for carrying everything back to their table, icing sugar, a can of chickpeas - thank you Google and YouTube for providing him with this little trick to keep things vegan - fondant, food coloring, and a piping bag. He feels like he's been wandering around the pantry for ages when he finally manages to gather everything he needs. 

When he turns to head out to his table, the double doors are shut. That's odd. He's pretty sure those have remained open all day. He pushes on first one, then the other, but they won't budge. He sets his basket down and puts his shoulder into it, but the doors don't have even the slightest give. He knocks on the door, then listens. Nothing. He bangs with his fists, then listens again. Even from in here, he can tell that the music is drowning out any noise he makes. These doors are thick, and the music is muffled, but it's still loud enough that he can still make out the words. 

This song he knows. And he can just imagine Merlin singing along to it, with his plump lips curved into a slight smile as he sings.

“How can I forget you girl...when there is always something there to remind me?”

Arthur slumps to the floor, his back against the door, wondering if he's ever managed to screw up a day so royally. There's nothing for it, though, he's stuck in here now and won't even be able to put his plan in motion to convince Merlin to forgive him.

From his vantage point on the floor, Arthur spies a single blender across the room. It gives him an idea...gives him hope. He pulls himself up - both literally up off the floor, and figuratively up out of his mental funk - and sets up a small workspace. And Arthur gets to work, hoping to pull off a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs Merlin was singing to in this chapter were:  
> \- The Hurting - Tears for Fears  
> \- Always Something There to Remind Me - Naked Eyes


	12. Mordred

Mordred is brooding. Kara always tells him when he's brooding, tries to pull him out of it, tries to convert him into a happy-go-lucky, impulsive optimist like she is. But right now, he's brooding. He knows the signs. This is what it feels like when she tells him. 

But how could he not brood right now?

The strawberries were his best idea. When he messed that up, he didn't have a back up plan, but he shouldn't have let his temper get the best of him. He should have laughed it off, gone back to his table to regroup, let Kara help him come up with another idea. But instead, he got angry.

Sweet Kara loves him, even though he broods, even though he sometimes loses his temper. And now he's letting her down. He's letting Morgana down too, because he messed up, and because he lost his temper. Most of all, he's letting Merlin down.

He's never seen anyone go from such an emotional high to such a low so quickly as Merlin did earlier. And it's all because of Arthur Pendragon. Yeah, he's brooding. Arthur's self-centered holier-than-thou speech about friendship, making it absolutely clear that he considers himself above the rest of them, kicked off a series of events wherein Mordred is letting three of his favorite people down. The smell of strawberries on him is beginning to equate with his sense of failure, and the two are making him nauseated.

Damn you, Arthur Pendragon!

He doesn't say it aloud, but as Arthur turns a glare in his direction, it's almost as if Arthur has heard his thoughts. Mordred mirrors an equally angry look right back at Arthur, then decides abruptly that he absolutely must go wash the strawberries off immediately.

When Mordred exits the lou, a bit damp on the shoulder but thankfully no longer smelling the strawberries of defeat, Arthur is no longer lording over Merlin's table. Kara is pointing behind herself exaggeratedly with her eyes, and Morgana mouths “Now, Mordred!” He has no idea what they're trying to have him do, but lets his gaze follow Kara's direction and finally, after a couple of minutes, sees that Arthur is in the pantry...and there's a double door that he can close and latch shut.

Trying not to draw any attention to himself, Mordred limits his pace to the hurried walk of someone who needs something from the pantry. When he arrives, he casually pulls the doors shut without going in, then latches them closed. Glancing around nervously, he's pleased to see that no one seems to have noticed him at all.

He returns to his workspace to find a beaming smile from Kara, and he basks in her approval as he finally gets back to helping her with their cake.


	13. Gwaine

Morgana is scheming. He’s certain of it, can recognize the signs easily enough. But Gwaine has been married to her long enough to know better than to interfere with her plans. Especially when they involve her brother. 

He also knows that she'd never intentionally hurt Arthur, either mentally or physically. There is, however, an ever present little niggling worry about that key word intentionally. 

Where Gwaine likes to pester, pick, poke, and prod at his victims, annoying or embarrassing them with immature, outrageous, and always good natured ribbing, ‘Gana takes a much more subtle, and intellectual approach. Her schemes tend to be of only two variations: extremely detailed, very involved, well thought out pranks, or well intentioned manipulative meddling, typically intended to improve Arthur's life in some way whether he wants it or not. It is this second variation that has the most likelihood of harming Arthur, and Gwaine suspects that today's scheme might fall into that category.

But that isn't the only reason that Gwaine is keeping a close eye on his wife's manipulations today. No. Gwaine has a sinking suspicion that Arthur isn't her only target today. Her attention seems only peripherally on Arthur, and much more focused on his new roommate and current baking partner. Although, Gwaine must admit that calling Arthur a baking partner would require Arthur to actually be doing something to assist with the actual baking.

Merlin. He's why Gwaine is keeping such a close watch, without appearing to do so, of course. Gwaine probably wouldn't admit to it if anyone accused him of it, but he definitely feels more than just a passing friendship with the newest member of their friend group. Since the moment he met Merlin, just a few days after he moved in with his Uncle Gaius and began frequenting Lance's shop, Gwaine has felt a kinship with Merlin unlike anything else in his life. 

If there were any possibility that his father had cheated on his mother over twenty years ago, and had a son that he didn't know about, Gwaine might fancy that he and Merlin were long lost brothers. But, of course, there's no chance of that being true. Still, regardless of the facts, Gwaine enjoys thinking of Merlin as the little brother that he never had. He's never discussed it with Merlin, but he likes to assume that Merlin feels the same way. That they connect on a deeper level than they do with others, that they understand one another in the way someone who shares genetic code and a lifetime of memories might do.

Of course, Arthur truly is his little brother, if only by marriage, but the chasm between Arthur and Morgana's upbringing and Gwaine's own resulted in Arthur being significantly more mature by the time he reached his teenage years than Gwaine will ever be. So even though Gwaine loves him dearly, and has often said the words “brother I never had,” Gwaine doesn't feel an innate understanding of Arthur and his thoughts and motivations. Their bond is different to the one that he feels with Merlin. The bond with Arthur has been forged over time and is reinforced by his love of Morgana and her love of her brother. But, with Merlin, it was more as if, upon meeting him, a bond that had already existed between them was uncovered.

So, yeah, Gwaine feels an unnaturally overpowering sense of protectiveness for Merlin. And even though it's his wife's actions that might threaten Merlin, Gwaine can't help but be particularly on guard, prepared to step in if necessary.

He therefore sees the entire drama unfold, without seeming to be paying any attention at all. Gana has somehow convinced little Mordred to be her pawn in today's sibling battle - Gwaine isn't surprised at this, his lovely wife is extremely persuasive - and when Arthur strides into the pantry as if he's suddenly on a mission, Mordred locks him in. 

Gwaine feels bad for Arthur, but he's not planning to head back there and unlock the door right now. No, there are at least two reasons why that would be a terrible idea. The first is Gwaine's sense of self-preservation, of course. If he ruins his wife's careful machinations, he's sure to feel the brunt of her anger later. He's not ashamed to admit that he's just the slightest bit afraid of his wife...not that she's ever hurt him, but, well...as the saying goes, payback is a bitch, and he's pretty sure that Morgana could out-payback and out-bitch anyone on this planet when she wants to. Thankfully, she almost never wants to. 

And the second reason not to saunter back and unlock the door right away is that then he'd never know the rest of her plan. Not to mention that walking to the back of the room right now - while Morgana is headed up to the front - would leave Merlin unprotected. No, Arthur will just have to take care of himself for a bit. In any case, it's not as if he's in any danger, other than the danger of being bored.

Putting Arthur out of his thoughts, he focuses on listening in to Morgana's conversation with that Noel fellow. She's really turning on her charm, “Merlin, the poor birthday boy, got stuck with my useless brother as a partner and hasn't had any help all day. Now to top things off, my brother has wandered off and left poor Merlin to fend for himself. Would you please be a dear, and be his partner for the rest of the challenge?”

“Oh, yeah, no, as a judge, I can't actually participate on any of the teams. It'd be an unfair advantage, cuz then I'd pick m’self, yeah?” 

This guy is a strange bird. Gwaine tracks Merlin's movements, still keeping his mind on the conversation at the front of the room, as Merlin finishes making a buttercream - or whatever vegan equivalent he made - and then goes to the back of the room to remove his cake from the oven and put it into the cooler. On his way back to his table, Gwaine sees his gaze flickering around the room, obviously wondering where Arthur has disappeared to. 

Morgana keeps her charm turned to two thousand percent. “Oh, of course, of course. I wouldn't want anything to be unfair. I'm still planning to win this competition, you know!” Gwaine looks over at them just in time to see her flash her most flirtatious smile. That used to bother him, when she did that, but now he's confident enough in her love for him to understand that she just does it on autopilot. She doesn't actually intend to flirt, or amp up her sex appeal. She usually doesn't even realize she's doing it. But when she wants something, especially from the opposite sex, he would bet his best pair of boots that the smile and the coquettish eyelash batting are going to come into play...and that she'll get what she wants. She always does. “I was just thinking, you know, since poor Merlin is over there all alone, and you've already made your rounds through all of the other teams, that maybe you could just...I dunno...keep him company while he works?” 

Gwaine can see the fellow caving. Honestly, he never stood a chance against his ‘Gana. And since today's scheme still seems rather tame - and unlikely to cause any harm to Merlin - Gwaine allows himself to succumb to the feeling of pride that overwhelms him as his beautiful wife wins her war...as Noel says, “Well, I was about to put on a sock puppet rendition of Henry V, but yeah, the birthday boy shouldn't be lonely.”


	14. Isolde

Isolde has always fancied herself an empath. She's pretty sure that others don't innately understand what the people around them are feeling the way she does. At least, the few times she's screwed up her courage enough to circumspectly ask, no one has seemed to get what she's asking. She secretly suspects that her extreme empathy is the reason she always wants to play the healer in every game she plays, the reason she often wants to smooth things over and be the voice of compromise. 

Her affinity with healers hasn't gone unnoticed by her husband or their D&D friends over the years. Merlin’s joking explanation for it was that she must have either lost someone to violence in a past life or died by violence herself. She laughed along with them, but their jest felt too right. For a while, after that discussion, she tried to fight her nature, tried to play a tank - but ended up choosing a Paladin - tried a rogue - but couldn't stop herself from taking the healer feature, then putting points into medicine proficiency, and finally added multiclassing as a druid, so she could cast Goodberry once per day.

Eventually, Isolde realized that there was no use fighting her own nature. She's attuned to other people's physical and emotional pain, and she wants to make them better, regardless of the cause.

Today is no exception. She can feel Tristan's unease, typical for any time he's surrounded by a large number of strangers. She can sense Merlin's discomfort, although anyone with eyes would be able to see that today. He’s singing along with the slightly morose lyrics of the song currently playing. To Isolde, they seem to be a perfect mirror to his inner turmoil.

Sometimes I feel I've got to run away  
I've got to get away  
From the pain you drive into the heart of me  
The love we share seems to go nowhere  
And I've lost my light for I toss and turn - I can't sleep at night  
Once I ran to you  
now I'll run from you  
This tainted love you've given  
I give you all a boy could give you  
Take my tears and that's not nearly all, oh

She isn't as adept at discerning the emotional state of people who she doesn't know, but when their emotions are high, she can definitely feel them. Mordred's sudden elated sense of accomplishment is mirrored a few moments later by waves of frustration radiating off Merlin's friend Arthur, from inside the pantry. 

The mediator in her wants to let Arthur out and help the two of them find a compromise to whatever problem has them waging this silent battle right under everyone's noses. Apparently Tristan, too, feels the need to right the injustice of locking someone in the closet. 

However, before either of them steps away from smoothing chocolate icing onto their very standard chocolate cake, she feels Arthur's mood shift into a satisfied determination. She glances back at Merlin, now chatting with their host, but still just as miserable as he was before, still searching for something - someone - who isn't replaced by his current companion. Isolde's healing instincts tell her that the true solution will only be found by leaving Arthur right where he is. 

As Tristan turns to go to the pantry, she places a hand on his arm. A tiny shake of her head is all the communication he needs to keep him from releasing Arthur immediately. He might have laughed at Merlin's jokes about her healing nature, but apparently he trusts her instincts almost as much as he trusts his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is singing along to the following song:  
> \- Tainted Love - Soft Cell


	15. Merlin

If someone had posed the question to Merlin “If you could spend a day with any celebrity, who would it be?”, there would have been a very real possibility of him answering “Noel Fielding.” Merlin is a huge fanboy, of very many fandoms, but Noel is at least in the top ten of his choices. Of course, any one of the Marvel actors could be a contender for top spot...Benedict Cumberbatch might get double points for also playing Sherlock and Smaug...triple points then. David Tennant is definitely up there as well. But, gosh, then there's also Ian McKellan or Patrick Stewart. Like Cumberbatch, they each get at least double points. And then Richard Ayoade earns his spot like Noel, by being in several of his favorite shows, and appealing to his stranger side.

Oooh, good song. As always, Merlin can't help but sing along.

Ok, if Merlin is being honest with himself, he'd probably never be able to reach a definite answer. And that would be just fine since it's a rhetorical question...most days. But today, one of his top contenders is standing right next to him, chatting nonstop to cover the total lack of chat coming from Merlin as he continues mixing batches of icing. Is he really waxing poetic on the tightness of trousers right now? Instead of focusing on one of his dreams becoming a reality, Merlin is instead focused completely on who the celebrity is not.

“Tell me your troubles and doubts  
Giving me everything inside and out and  
Love's strange so real in the dark  
Think of the tender things that we were working on”

And even though he has a ridiculously long list of celebrities who vie for that top spot, they most assuredly aren't his focus right now either. Nope, that award goes to the prat who made today possible and then went and ruined it in so many more ways than he even realized.

And, sure, Merlin is aware that Arthur - where did he go, anyway? - knew he'd been a jerk. Merlin had heard his attempts at an apology. But what Arthur didn't know, and the reason that Merlin couldn't bring himself to accept the apology, at least not yet, was that Merlin’s revelation in the car earlier today mirrored Arthur's rant. 

“Will you stand above me?  
Look my way, never love me  
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling  
Down, down, down”

Yes, Merlin had maybe started crushing on his roommate after the past couple of weeks of getting to know one another. And even though Merlin was crushing, he was completely cognizant of the fact that he still had no idea whether Arthur even swings his way. But that was ok, because just being Arthur's friend - a friend who totally has a thing for him but wouldn't admit it in a thousand years for fear of ruining their newfound friendship - was enough for Merlin. The time they’ve spent together has been some of the most enjoyable moments of the past year. Even if things never moved beyond friendship with Arthur, Merlin was beginning to realize that he was finally returning to life after losing Will - all thanks to his ridiculously rude pratmate. And regardless of what might or might not have happened between them in some dreamy future in Merlin's mind, Merlin had been thinking that he'd be forever grateful to Arthur for pulling him back from the abyss of depression where he'd been existing for so long.

“Don't you forget about me  
I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby  
Going to take you apart  
I'll put us back together at heart, baby”

Some part of Merlin’s mind catches snippets of Noel’s chatter, now moved on to the topic of television...lack of psychedelic content...loathing of reality tv. Merlin agrees with him. He should probably say so. But his thoughts are still mired in the earlier events of the day.

Arthur had insisted on driving to tonight's festivities. And upon first seeing Arthur's ridiculously over the top sports car...a bloody Lotus Elise, no less...something had finally clicked inside Merlin’s obviously malfunctioning brain. Arthur is the kind of guy who can afford to own the gorgeous - spacious - flat that they're currently sharing, who installs a bloody top of the line home theater that he never uses, who drives a sports car that probably cost more than Merlin’s mum’s house. Yeah, he should have seen it before, but Merlin spent the entire drive to the bake-off reeling from his sudden understanding that, regardless of Arthur's sexual preferences, he's so out of Merlin's league that he's already slumming just to call Merlin a friend. Although...Merlin remembers what he said to Arthur earlier this weekend: “Would your royal pratness be willing to hobnob with this commoner after dinner in order to enjoy that movie I suggested? Or is it, and am I, too far beneath you, oh honoured king cabbage-head?” Yeah, some part of Merlin’s mind was aware of the chasm between them, but his conscious mind refused to acknowledge that the chances that Arthur would stoop so beneath his upbringing to date someone of Merlin’s social standing - ie a totally broke bloke from Ealdor, of all places - are slim to none.

Merlin had been doing his best to forget his revelation and stay upbeat...and seeing all of his friends was definitely helping to clear those ugly truths from his mind...when Arthur bloody well confirmed everything that Merlin had suspected. 

Merlin’s internal ranting is interrupted by a shot glass being shoved into his hands. “Here mate,” Noel clinks the edge of his glass to Merlin's. “Cheers!” What the hell. Why not? Merlin downs the shot in tandem with Noel, only then noticing that they're drinking his vegan Irish Cream. “I hope you don't mind. You looked like you needed to get out of your head, and I needed to taste this. It's bloody magnificent. Mind if I have another?”

“No....It's...fine.” Merlin wants to say that he minds, even though he has more than enough. He wants to save all that he has left, because Arthur bought it for him. Who knows if Arthur will ever buy anything for him again. He’ll probably ask Merlin to move out as soon as possible, now that they both know they will never actually be friends, by any definition of the word. But no. Merlin should probably share the rest with everyone, not save it. He shouldn’t keep any mementos, should stop thinking about Arthur at all, so he doesn't fall back into a depressed slump, pining over another man who he can't have. The reasons might be vastly different, but the result will be the same: Merlin alone and lonely. 

He assesses his frosting assortment. All four colors, excessive quantities of each, are ready to go. “I'll be right back.”

“Since you've been gone  
I shut my eyes and I fantasize  
That you're here with me  
Will you ever return?”

Merlin grabs his cakes from the freezer, checking that they're sufficiently cooled to begin icing them. He glances around to look for...No! No more obsessing over Arthur! 

This song isn't helping at all!

“Come back and stay for good this time  
You said goodbye  
I was trying to hide what I felt inside  
Until you passed me by  
You said you'd return”

When he gets back to his table, Merlin stacks his three layers of blood-red red velvet cakes, putting a thick layer of his Bailey's coconut cream icing, dyed a deep grey-ish maroon, in between the layers. As he begins doing the crumb coat on the outside, using more of the maroon, Noel steals a finger full of icing from Merlin's mixer, still filled with the pearlescent white frosting. “That tastes like a cloud made out of Bailey's!” He laughs and takes another finger full, thankfully using a different finger this time, but still. “God, can you imagine if clouds really were made of Bailey's? It would rain Irish Cream, and little kids would run outside when it rained, and open their mouths to catch the yummy rain, spinning in circles with their arms stretched wide, and they'd tell their mums “Mummy, the rain makes me feel funny.” And they'd do somersaults when they went inside and walk into walls. It would be fantastic!” Noel mimics spinning in a circle with his arms out and accidentally knocks an unused egg off Mordred and Kara’s table.

To Merlin’s utter horror, he feels tears filling his eyes as he stares at the broken egg splattered on the floor, as he mourns the life that the baby chick will never get to live. But then, being honest with himself, the life he's actually mourning is the one that he'll never get to live. Where the bloody hell did the arrogant prat disappear to anyway? He's supposed to be Merlin's partner in this baking competition, but he's been completely rubbish all day, and now he's just gone. 

“Will you ever return?  
Or have you change your mind  
If you won't stay mine just love me forever  
Love me forever”

To complete Merlin's shame, Noel sees the tears, evidenced only by a slight widening of his eyes and then by putting a bowl over the top of the egg. “There. All taken care of.” Luckily for Merlin, Noel doesn't mention the tears. He merely changes the subject. “We got Baileys, creamy, and, um... everything good. I'll get ya another Baileys.” 

Putting Arthur - where is...? NO! - firmly out of his mind once and for all, Merlin takes the proffered Baileys. “Cheers!” And finally begins the painstaking process of decorating his dragon scale cake. He pipes a dollop of dark grey, then squeezes a slightly smaller bead of gold and pearl on the right side of the grey. Then he uses a spoon to smooth the three colors together into a dragon-scale-esque oval shape that fades from dark grey at the “front" to a shimmery golden pearl at the wider tail end of the scale.

“Ahhh, that's lovely. What is it?” Noel’s voice comes from too close behind Merlin's shoulder as he's bending to critique his first dragon scale, and he jumps, almost managing to knock his frosting bag into the scale.

“Shite!” Merlin glances back at Noel, he swears it isn't a glare, but seriously, Noel is actually managing to be a worse partner than Arthur. And that part of Merlin's brain that wonders where Arthur is, despite Merlin's admonishment to stop thinking about him, also remembers their tickle fight on the couch...and in turn points out that Merlin wouldn't have minded if it had been Arthur standing so close behind him. “Shut up, Merlin!” he mutters to himself.

Noel, oblivious to Merlin's inner turmoil, is attempting to answer his own question. “I once saw a slug, in the zoo, an exotic one, and it looked a bit like that. I think it was poisonous.” 

“Stand and Deliver!”

Noel’s comparison of Merlin's cake to a slug...really? A freaking slug? Does it look that bad?...is interrupted by Adam Ant’s demanding intro to one of Merlin and Will’s favorite songs to sing along with. For the first time since Will’s death, the wave of nostalgia that consumes him isn't a deep black abyss of pain. No, there's still pain, and it's still an achingly huge valley of it. But amidst the pain, Merlin can feel the soft gratefulness of having loved and lost, rather than just the screaming anger of loss. It's a feeling that, logically, he's told himself he should be having, but until this very moment has been unable to truly experience. He feels a slight smile adorn his face as he begins to sing along and make more slugs on his cake, Noel singing along, loudly, with him.

“I'm the dandy highwayman  
Whom you're too scared to mention  
I spend my cash  
On looking flash  
And grabbing your attention”

Despite everything, when Merlin feels Noel dancing beside him, he can't help himself. He sets both spoon and piping bag onto the counter and turns to face Noel, and they sing and dance along with the song together. 

“The devil take your stereo  
And your record collection  
The way you look, you'll qualify  
For next year's old age pension!”

Noel hooks his elbow in Merlin’s and they spin, first in one direction, then the other. Laughing. Carefree. Completely letting go of all other thoughts for the duration of the song.

“Stand and deliver  
Your money or your life  
Hoh!

Try to use a mirror  
Not a bullet or a knife  
Hoh!

Even though you fool your soul  
Your conscience will be mine  
All mine”

When the song ends, fading into Duran Duran’s Come Up And See Me (Make Me Smile) - wow, that one's obscure! But Merlin loves it! - he forces himself to refocus on decorating his cake, even while continuing to sing along.

“You've done it all  
You've broken every code  
Pulled the lever   
To the floor  
You've spoiled the game  
No matter what you say…”

Noel is still chuckling and tells him, “God, I love Adam and the Ants. Prince Charming was my first album. I went as Adam Ant for Halloween one year...I sometimes wonder if I've based my fashion sense on that experience. I absolutely loved wearing that fancy military uniform, putting on makeup, and having my hair all done up.”

“Come Up And See Me, make me smile, oooo-ooh”

Merlin looks up from adding more slugs and smiles at Noel. “I'd never thought about it before, but yeah, you could totally be an Adam Ant acolyte. I think he'd be proud to have been your inspiration.”

“Yeah?”

Merlin nods, only cutting his eyes sideways for a moment to where Noel is standing and then continuing to work. “Yeah. I'm sure of it.”

“Thanks, Merlin! That actually means a lot to me.” Noel’s smile has morphed from his usual, slightly sarcastic, I'm-in-on-a-joke-that-you-don't-know look, to a softer, more intimate, slightly shy, definitely-grateful-for-the-heartfelt-compliment look. It's a much more honest smile, and Merlin is somewhat amazed to consider that he's making an actual connection with one of his favorite celebrities. 

Of course their moment is interrupted at that exact moment by an alarm on Noel’s phone quietly playing Ace of Spades. “Oh, duty calls. I'll be right back.” Then stepping to the center aisle between tables, and turning to face the rest of the tables, Noel calls loudly, “Bakers, unfortunately time is not an illusion. You have thirty minutes remaining.”

Merlin is feeling pretty great. One quarter of his cake is decorated, and with 30 minutes left, he should be fine. He glances around the room - not looking for Arthur, of course not - and is a bit intimidated by some of the other cakes he sees. Mordred and Kara’s cake is decorated in dragon scales similar to his own, in a simple single color, but theirs has been carved into the shape of an egg. That was a good idea, but he likes his blended colors better. And, he reminds himself, his cake’s flavor is fantastic. 

Leon and Mithian, behind them, are decorating their cake into a tree stump with mushrooms on the sides, and have sculpted an adorable little sleeping dragon that he assumes is going to go on top. Wow, that's so impressive! Merlin knows that he'll be lucky to beat such a great looking cake, considering the simplicity of his decorations, but he's still counting on his flavors to come out on top.

Oh bugger, Lance and Gwen have also done dragon scales as their decoration, and theirs looks like an homage to House Targaryen. Amazingly, their decoration doesn't actually look better than Merlin’s, but definitely equivalent. And he knows first-hand that Lance’s cakes are the standard of excellence by which everyone judges every other cake. Telling himself that he'll be happy if he even manages to come in second place after Lance, he forces his attention back to his own tasks, singing along as the next great song begins.

“When routine bites hard  
And ambitions are low  
And resentment rides high   
But emotions won’t grow  
And we’re changing our ways  
Taking different roads

Love, love will tear us apart again  
Love, love will tear us apart again”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noel Fielding’s first album really was Adam and the Ants, but sadly, I have no idea what his childhood Halloween costumes really were.
> 
> Merlin’s playlist in this chapter:  
> \- Don’t you forget about me - Simple Minds  
> \- Come back and stay - Paul Young  
> \- Stand and Deliver - Adam & the Ants  
> \- Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me) - Duran Duran  
> \- Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division


	16. Cenred

Morgause is still giggling with Morgana, as she has been doing since putting her cake in the oven. 

When that weirdo host calls out that only thirty minutes remain, Cenred checks the timer that she set. Their cake still has twenty minutes to go before it is ready. He looks in on the cake. It really doesn't look very done, so he decides to turn the temperature higher. He had it set on 150C earlier, but decides that maybe he should crank it up to 225C now to be sure that the cake bakes all the way through.

That done, he glances back at Morgause, wondering why she had him wash the mixer earlier. Rifling through her bag, he finds a recipe for a “cake glaze” and all of the required ingredients. It looks pretty simple, so he starts combining powdered sugar, room temperature butter, and some food coloring into the mixer and then turns it on. There's a bottle of amaretto in her bag too, so he decides to add a healthy dose of that to the mixer as well. He tastes it, and it's pretty awesome, so he adds some more amaretto. If some makes it good, then more makes it better, right? 

Morgause is going to be so happy when she sees that he took care of things while she was off enjoying herself.

Honestly, he can't believe that he's worried about whether or not she's happy with him. He's never really cared about girlfriends being pleased with him before her, but she's...different...she's something else! And even though his bad-boy biker, devil-may-care attitude is what first drew her to him, he has found that he can't risk continuing to act the part of the aloof confirmed bachelor anymore, for fear of losing her. He used to be his own man, to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without any care for the opinions of anyone else. And now look at him...baking like a bloody pansy-assed poof, just to impress a chick! Next thing you know, he'll be babysitting some douch-bag’s toddler, wiggling some crazy colored crappy toy that crinkles when you squeeze it in front of a spoiled baby's face so it doesn't cry, just because Morgause wants to impress someone with her offer to babysit but then doesn't want to follow through and actually mind the baby herself. 

Of course, the baby could be theirs...Cenred finds that the idea isn't quite as terrible as he has always found it. There have been a couple of pregnancy scares in his past, with two of the few women who he kept around for longer than his usual one night. Luckily, they were just that...scares...not real. But fuck. Just the thought of it had been enough that Cenred dumped each of them the moment they told him they weren't actually pregnant. It isn't as if he was planning to have a baby with either of them, of course, but he didn't relish the part where he was going to have to convince them to have an abortion, and then probably have to do some comforting afterwards before he could take off. An involuntary shudder courses through him at these thoughts, mostly noteworthy because of the absence of this reaction when he contemplates the possibility of being stuck with Morgause for life by something as terrifying as having a child.

Yeah, there's no chance he's ready for kids, but he renews his efforts to impress Morgause, convinced that he needs her to stick around for a while longer.


	17. Alice

Alice is so pleased that she decided to stick with her basic fruit-topped vegan cake for today's competition. She's made this cake, with a variety of different fruits, so many times that she didn't have to worry about a recipe or running out of time. No, after watching every single episode of the Bake-Off on the tele, now that Merlin’s darling golden-haired beau has given her the opportunity to actually be part of it, she is glad that she has been able to savor the experience. If she'd made something more complex, using an unfamiliar recipe, then she'd have been so consumed by the effort to get it right that she’d have missed all of the action going on around the room.

But this way, she has a lovely single-layer, golden cardamom cake topped with alternating slices of kumquat and dragonfruit to present for judging, and she's already finished. She has the next thirty minutes to just relax and watch everyone else work frantically to complete their cakes. She decides that it won't be too much of a distraction if she walks around and admires what they've done so far.

At the table right in front of them, the handsome dark-skinned boy seems to be working hard to impress the girl with creamy skin, full red lips, and long wavy brown hair. Alice has been watching them interact throughout the competition, and it is clear who is in charge. With thirty minutes to go, they've just pulled their three round cakes from the freezer, stacked them, and added a white crumb coat. They're topping the crumb coat with a butter yellow fondant, and looks like they'll be adding some sort of design that involves lots of different sizes of red circles and triangles.

“Can't wait to see what they do with that,” she thinks.

The handsome, ridiculously tall and muscular fellow and his petite partner at the next table look to be a little further along, with grey fondant already coating their two layer cake. He is adding small boulders of a darker grey fondant and grassy areas of green around the sides and top of the cake. They're not completely professional looking, but sufficiently shaped that Alice can already tell what he's doing. The figure that the girl is making from black fondant is more difficult to discern. Alice is guessing that it is a dragon - since that IS today's theme - though it currently looks more like a panther with wings. Either way, she's certain that their cake will end up being adorable.

And at the table in front of them, the handsome man with long silky brown hair that would almost make him beautiful rather than handsome if his facial hair weren't grown out into a rogue-ish scruff, and the gorgeous woman who Gaius said is Merlin's boyfriend's sister are chatting with a blonde haired woman. There isn't a cake in sight, and none of them seem the least bit worried.

As Alice moves toward the front table, she takes a moment to wish, not for the first time, that she could ever remember anyone's name after first hearing it. Gaius would probably blame it on getting old, but Alice has had this problem her whole life. She finally attributed it to the fact that when she first meets someone she's so concerned with what she's going to say that she is wholly focused inward, never outward. One of these days, she's going to try to figure out how to build a mind palace like that lovely Sherlock Holmes uses, and maybe she'll have a better chance of remembering names. Until then, however, she's just going to have to accept that all of these handsome young men and gorgeous young women whom dear Merlin has befriended are nameless faces to her. 

The young woman with such beautiful chocolate skin, lovely dark curls, and the kindest smile Alice has ever seen turns to her as she approaches their table. “Hello...Alice, isn't it? I'm Gwen. I'm so glad that you and Gaius were able to make it today. Merlin speaks so highly of you both.” Gwen’s husband, the gorgeous young man with olive skin and a smoldering intensity that makes Alice wish she were young again - a wish that she doesn't often make, because she appreciates her hard-earned wisdom, and her adoring husband, thank you very much - doesn't look up from decorating his cake.

“Hello, dear. I'm pleased to be here. I have to admit that The Albion Baking show is one of my guilty pleasures, so being here today has been doubly wonderful. Don't I recognize the two of you from the bakery next door to my husband's bookshop?” Alice may be rubbish at remembering names, but she's always been great at placing faces. 

“Yes! That's my husband's shop. He's only been open just over a year now, but his concept has been so well received that he's been very successful already. He's already had to revise his business plan twice because he's outpacing it.” Gwen’s face lights up with pride as she talks about his accomplishments, and Alice is glad that she mentioned it. “I'm surprised that I haven't seen you in before?” 

“Oh, dear, I mostly just window shop as I walk past to the bookstore. But I've loved everything I've tried.” She loved their baked goods a bit too much, and had to admonish herself not to go in anymore for fear of spending too much and gaining too much...money and weight respectively. “Besides, as you young folks might say, it isn't really my scene.”

“Nonsense! It's everyone's scene! You should stop in whenever you're at the bookshop.” And, darling girl that she is, Alice can tell that Gwen truly means this.

There isn't much that Alice can say in response, other than a heartfelt, “Thank you, I'll try to stop in soon,” because it's refreshing to meet someone with such an honest kindness. “Now, it looks like that young man from the baking show is walking away from Merlin, so I want to catch him and say hello. It isn't every day that you get to meet someone from on the tele.” 

The young man calls out, “Fifteen minutes,” loudly enough to be heard over the music and chatter and clatter of the room, and Alice intercepts him before he turns back to Merlin. 

“Hello, young man, I'm Alice, Merlin's aunt.” She holds out her hand to shake, but he takes her hand in his and kisses the top of it like a true gentleman.

“It's lovely to meet you, Alice. I'm Noel.” 

Alice is flustered enough by his grand gesture that she lets slip the one thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t say, “I’m a huge fan!! I just love your show!” Oh, this is really embarrassing. She saw a talk show host once, explaining that tv and movie stars - well any stars she supposes - hear that kind of statement from everyone they meet. They actually prefer to just have people treat them like normal. And now Alice has gone and mucked that all up already. 

But Noel takes it in stride, at least pretending to eat her words up to save her ego. “Oh yeah? I always love to meet my fans, I don’t think there are all that many of you, you know. Which show is your favorite?” 

His false modesty is so sweet; she knows that he has millions of fans! That would be ok to say right? It won’t sound too...what was the word? Fangirlish? “Oh, you’re such a modest young man. Your Great Baking show has millions of viewers. It’s one of the top shows on tele. And you have others? I’ll have to look for them! Do you actually do the cooking in some of the others?”

Noel chuckles, looking slightly embarrassed. Now she’s gone and done it. She should have changed the subject and not gushed over him. “I, uh, actually don’t know anything about baking - or cooking for that matter. When it comes to the kitchen, I’m like a beach ball. I’m colorful and fun, but I haven’t got anything inside. Actually, I’m like a beach ball about everything, not just cooking. You should check out some of my other shows. The Mighty Boosch, or Noel Fielding’s Luxury Comedy. If you watch those, you’ll see what I mean.”

Alice knows that she should just agree and then change the subject. She is making him uncomfortable, just like that talk show said. But she can’t, for the life of her, come up with any other subject than baking or Noel Fielding. She’s got a degree in medicine, more knowledge about natural healing than most people have about the floorplans of their own homes, and is almost as well-read as her husband in both classical and popular literature...but how do you segue from “I’m a beach ball who knows nothing” to any of those subjects? It would be like flaunting her intellect in front of a small child. So she just lamely agrees. “I’ll give them a watch and see.”

Noel flashes his widest smile at her - it really is dazzling and almost as disconcerting as the Cheshire cat’s. 

And then Alice is saved from the awkwardness of trying to think of further conversation by Gauis beckoning her into a conversation with Geoffrey. “Alice, dear, Geoffrey and I would like your opinion on whether baking healing herbs reduces their effectiveness.”

She returns Noel’s smile, “It was a pleasure to meet you, if you’ll excuse me?”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Noel replies graciously.

Well, he might be a beach ball, but he’s a sweet boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the outset of this story, I searched for cakes that would fit the dragon theme, while also fitting in with the different personalities of the characters. While I hope that my descriptions of the cakes are sufficient to help you envision them, the cakes that these bloggers have made are just such visions of loveliness that I decided I wanted to share them. Of course, I didn't want to post their photos without giving them the credit, so I thought the simplest thing to do would be to post the link to their blog. (I hope that isn't violating any rules; I'm working under the assumption that giving them hits is always a plus. Please let me know if I'm wrong.)
> 
> After too much ado, here is the inspiration for Alice's cake, which Gaius enjoys eating but didn't help very much with:
> 
> https://kirbiecravings.com/dragon-fruit-cake/
> 
> (Pretty sure this one wasn't actually vegan, though I said Alice made it vegan.)


	18. Leon

Leon is so smitten! I mean, he’s been smitten for years, but after spending the past couple of hours as Mithian’s teammate...partner...date?...he’s officially gone beyond smitten. Most women are too frivolous for him, featherheaded and fickle. He has always appreciated Mithian’s steadfast efficiency. And even though she has an outwardly serious demeanor, he’s seen the signs of her demure humor when times have warranted it. Yeah, for years now, he’s been comparing every woman he dated - scratch that, every woman he’s met - to Mithian, and found them all lacking. 

Except for Gwen, he admits to himself...and maybe Morgana...but they’re both taken, and his childhood crushes on both of them have faded into a fondness that only a lifelong friendship can build. 

And even though he’s smitten, he’s been honest with himself, reigning himself in, to remember that he’s only seen Mithian at work functions, so what he’s really been comparing women to is his image of who Mithian is, perhaps someone who he’s put on a pedestal, and not the actual Mithian. But their first date has been very promising so far. She’s still so perfectly efficient, competent, and quietly confidant. She doesn’t let on through her outward actions all of the emotions that are under the surface, but Leon sees them. He saw the look of pride in her eyes when they put their cakes in the oven before everyone else, the contentment in the way they’d worked together to get things done, and most importantly, her return appreciation for him. 

“If you were going to panic, now is the time. Bakers, you have five minutes left!”

Absolutely no need for panic at their table. They had a plan, and they’ve stuck with it. After putting their carrot cakes into the oven, Leon began sculpting a two and a half inch round dragon, curled in on himself in sleep like a happy dog. When Mithian suggested that he sculpt the topper, leaving her to make all of the adornments, he was worried that he’d end up letting her down. After practicing literally all day yesterday, and watching several videos on YouTube with tips for sculpting with fondant, he came in today without any doubts that he could make an adorable dragon within a one hour time limit. 

One of the tips he found led him to choose a sleeping dragon, so that he’d only need to make the face and a single wing. No need to worry about matching two wings in size, shape, or placement this way. Another suggested rolling multiple colors of fondant together for a marbled effect. Leon chose to use mostly yellow and green with a small portion of blue torn into tiny pieces and spread evenly throughout his ball of green and yellow before he began rolling. 

Since his dragon’s body is completely covered by the head and wing, he was able to quickly curl a small fistful of fondant into the right size and shape, and then move on. The tail was easy as well, just a piece rolled out to be thick on one end and come to a point on the other end. Once he’d attached that to the body, he’d been able to move on to the wing. That had been daunting at first, but after making more than a dozen wings yesterday, he had the process down pat. Roll the fondant flat, cut the shape, add coils for ridges, then smooth the ridges onto the wing until they appear part of it, then attach the wing to the body and shape it so it looks like the wing is a protective blanket.

Once Leon had managed all of that in under fifteen minutes, he had the rest of his time to work on the difficult part: the face. If getting the size and shape of it wasn’t hard enough, adding the details to make their baby dragon look loveable certainly was. He’d given it tiny horns, a slightly pointy bottom lip, deep eye ridges with lines where his eyes were closed in sleep, and two fat nostril holes that looked like they could spout smoke when the dragon needed to look fierce to protect himself. Of course this little guy trying to look fierce would be like a kitten with its fur standing on end spitting mad...not at all intimidating, but cute as can be. 

As Leon looked his dragon over for flaws, he was reminded of the Pern series, which was one of his favorites in high school. His little dragon sort of made him think of the fire lizards from Pern.

While he’d been working on the dragon, Mithian turned their cakes into a fantastic woodlands stump. The top of the cake is light brown with concentric tree rings slightly offset from the center. The sides have a darker brown icing, layered on to look like bark. Adorning the sides are several simple sculpted off-white oyster mushrooms and some patches of green moss. And around the bottom of the stump, she’s added a few spindly spotted mushrooms and more moss. It’s really one of the best looking cakes he’s ever seen, even before adding his sleeping dragon to the top. 

And he’s very proud that his dragon is worthy to adorn the top of it.

Mithian squirts a glob of icing to act as glue, and Leon places his cute dragon onto its tree stump bed. The two of them straighten the dragon, slightly, then stepping back - and accidentally closer to one another - they admire their finished cake just as Noel announces “Bakers, your time is up.”

At his side, Mithian’s typical quiet demeanor is cast aside in her excitement over finishing an admittedly gorgeous and adorable cake. She claps her hands, bouncing slightly on her toes and smiling widely with pure joy radiating from her expression. Leon, just as happy with their success, but still retaining his usual decorum, smiles down at her, relishing in the feel of her standing right against his side. Then suddenly, she turns and envelops Leon in a spontaneous celebratory hug. Leon’s decorum is smashed into pieces, torn to shreds, and thrown out the window when he feels Mithian...finally…in his arms. He squeezes her tightly, lifting her off her feet in his embrace, and up to his level. Without giving it any thought, he does what he’s been dreaming of for years. He lets his lips touch hers. Gently at first, a mere caress. Delicate and sweet, like the woman he’s kissing. But then, after years of being contained and hidden, his passion consumes him like the explosive backdraft of a fire when given oxygen. He sweeps his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers, feeling her melt into the kiss, loving her response...until she stiffens in his arms. And he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He’s just returned to reality with her. She’s surrounded by people who she has to work with, people who she is always careful to look professional around. Her biggest competitor, no less, and he’s kissed her in front of them, made her look human - feminine - when she’s worked so hard to maintain the appearances required of a business-woman in a man’s world.

“I’m sorry.” He tells her quietly as he sets her down amid the still cacophonous noises of celebration around them. But he feels like he needs to tell her more. He isn’t sorry for kissing her, though he thinks that might be what she’s thinking from her downcast look at his words. “I’m sorry that our first kiss was so public, I mean. But...I’m, well...I’d like to go out with you again.” 

When Mithian goes on tiptoes and stretches up to place a chaste kiss on his lips in response, his brain short circuits and he throws caution to the wind, telling her, “Mithian, I think you’re an amazing woman. Beautiful, intelligent, kind, and … just perfect. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” 

But then, apparently his short circuited brain reboots, and he realizes that he’s being much too forward for a first date, even though he’s known Mithian for years. And he tries to backpedal, to salvage his chances for a second date, if not his ego. But his mind is still mostly scrambled from that kiss...God, it was off the charts hot to hold her body flush against his while he swept his tongue across hers...and the embarrassing words that stumble out of his mouth kill any chances he has of possibly getting this amazing woman to go out with him a second time, much less of making her fall in love with him, marry him, and have his babies. “I mean, of course I'm completely loyal to Arthur, to Camelot Industries, so technically, I'm not YOURS exactly, but…”

He might have gone on babbling ridiculous nonsense like that, further destroying any chance of ever showing his face to the most perfect woman he'd ever met, except that his embarrassment has him look away from her, over to Arthur and Merlin’s table. And Arthur isn't there. He isn't anywhere in sight. Leon hasn't really been paying any attention to anything beyond Mithian and their cake for the past two hours, but he can't come up with any explanation for Arthur to have left during the competition. He should be over there cheering the completion of their cake with his friend Merlin. 

Leon scans the room, noticing that the pantry doors are shut. Maybe that's standard practice here, like it is on some cooking shows. If you haven't gotten everything you need at the beginning, then you're out of luck. Then the music fades between two songs and Leon hears Arthur shouting, pounding on the pantry doors. 

“Bloody open the bloody door!! Hello? Somebody! Anybody!”

Forgetting his conversation with Mithian, forgetting his embarrassment, he jogs to the back of the room and pulls the bar from the pantry doors, then pulls both doors open simultaneously. Arthur almost falls on him, as his foot - he was apparently kicking the door - hits nothing but air where he was expecting the door to be. “Thank Christ! Leon! I don't think I've ever been so happy to see you before in my life! No offense, but being locked in there for the past hour was quite long enough. If you'll excuse me, I need to get this,” he’s holding something, but Leon doesn't manage to get a good look at it with all of Arthur’s animated gesturing, “up there.” And with that, Arthur heads to the front of the room.

When Leon turns to follow, he almost runs into Mithian, standing right behind him - if she were anyone else, he might say standing too close. She takes another step toward him, then crowds him backwards into the relative privacy of the pantry. Before he can say a word, she places one finger over his lips, saying “I think you’re amazing too.” Then, regrettably, she pulls back a bit, and his lips mourn the loss of her touch. But his brain finally processes the words she just said. 

Amazing? Really? 

And she continues, “Do you know...when I took over as CEO of Nemeth Corporation, my father's board of directors didn't approve of his choice to put me in charge. That entire first week, they’d put so many roadblocks in place that I was unable to accomplish a single thing. I'd already been working there for five years, but they managed to manipulate the situation so that I was surrounded that week only by people who supported one of the board members, Valiant Mellor, for the position instead of me. On my fourth day as CEO, you called...out of the blue...to congratulate me on my new position. You told me that you had always been impressed by me and that you knew I would be great for Nemeth. I'd been on the verge of giving in. It had been a terrible week - still the most frustrating week of my life - and I couldn't imagine living my life with week after week of that. You were literally the first person to congratulate me, the first person who expressed confidence in my ability to succeed in the position. I have to admit that I already had a bit of a crush on you anyway, and an unabashed respect for you, from the way you always treated me...just like I was anyone else in the room...so your confidence in me meant the world to me at that moment. I gave myself five minutes to have a good cry after we hung up the phone, and then I walked out of my office and immediately processed paperwork to fire the entire board of directors.”

She looks away from him and pushes one side of her silken soft hair behind her ear, then fiddles with the ends, wrapping it around her finger and letting it fall free repeatedly. He wants to reply, to alleviate her obvious discomfort, but he's stunned to silence. He's never seen Mithian look awkward before, never witnessed this shyness, never known her to be unsure of herself. And even though he loves the confident Mithian he's always known, he finds that circumspect Mithian is also extremely alluring.

She looks up at him without raising her head, holding his gaze through her eyelashes, and continues, “I've always wanted to thank you for that, for giving me the courage to do what needed to be done, but it felt like an admission of weakness that I couldn't afford. I'm always wearing armor, a facade, but I've also always suspected that you were able to see through it.”

She puts her left hand on his right shoulder, and he glances down at it momentarily. Then she puts her right hand on his left shoulder. And then, very deliberately, while looking him right in the eyes, she pushes herself up on tiptoe, places a soft kiss on his lips and tells him, “Thank you, Leon, for being the dependable,” kiss “respectful,” kiss “considerate,” kiss “utterly gorgeous,” kiss “man that you are.” As she tries to land another of those soft, sweet caresses on his lips, he catches her mouth with his and turns it hotter and longer, wrapping his arms around her to hold her up on tiptoes, keeping her closer to his height. And when they come up for air, she tells him, “I would love to go out with you again, too, as soon and as often as possible.”

Leon feels like he's just run a race...just WON a race. He wonders if this is how Secretariat felt every time he won, and thinks maybe he understands why the horse’s heart was larger than any other horse heart, because Leon feels as if his heart is suddenly three times larger than it was just minutes before. He manages to catch his breath, and amazingly, to form coherent words. “Let's get back in there and enjoy the end of this date first, shall we?” When Mithian nods her agreement with a dazzlingly wide smile, he adds, “and just as soon as the bake-off is over, we can go on our second date!”

The perfect woman for him replies with the perfect answer to his perfect idea. “Sounds perfect!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This lovely creation was the inspiration for Leon and Mithian's cake:
> 
> https://cookieconnection.juliausher.com/clip/sleepy-dragon-cake-the-woodsy-wife-bakery


	19. Arthur

(45 minutes ago)

Arthur drags the blender - wait, this is a mixer, right? God, I really am rubbish in the kitchen. - onto a small countertop that has a bit of open space. He pulls his phone from his back pocket to refresh his memory on the vegan recipes that he’d found last night, then he pulls everything he needs back out of his basket so he can get started. 

He's not sure why he's convinced himself that making a cake topper is so crucial to getting Merlin to forgive him. Or when Merlin's regard of him became so pivotal to Arthur's continued happiness. But currently, Arthur feels that if this little project of his doesn't go well, then his life is suddenly going to be plunged back into the black and white existence that he'd been leading before Merlin introduced him to Technicolor.

He prepares the fondant first, coloring it with red and black food coloring and wedging it on a cutting board to get the perfect maroon. He then rolls it out, grateful for all of the YouTube videos that he watched and the tips that they gave for beginners. Grabbing a few packets of Rice Krispie treats that he assumes are in the pantry for exactly this purpose, he smashes them together and shapes them carefully. He then inserts four long wooden dowels, thanking whomever stocks this pantry for understanding that some people might not come prepared with all of the items needed to add a cake topper. 

He places the Rice Krispie shape flat onto his maroon fondant, slicing around it so that the edges of his shape will be neatly covered, then flips the whole thing over and covers the other side. After carefully pressing all of the edges together so that the fondant will stay on, he turns to the mixer. 

He hears Noel shout from the other room, “Bakers, unfortunately time is not an illusion. You have thirty minutes remaining.”

He's quickly running out of time, so he opens the can of chickpeas, adds all of the other ingredients, and then whips up some golden colored vegan icing and spoons it into a piping bag. He starts by piping a neat, golden border around the edges of his shield-shaped cake topper, giving himself a feel for how fast the icing comes out and how thick he makes it with his steady pressure on the bag.

Now comes the tricky part! 

From the other room, “Fifteen minutes!!” 

Arthur refuses to feel rushed or stressed. He can totally do this, and have it come out perfect. Or at least...good…. Although Arthur has loved to draw since his earliest memories, he’s never tried drawing or writing with icing. When he was a boy, his teachers were always very encouraging, telling him that he had natural talent and urging him to become an artist. His father, however, soon disabused him of that notion. Uther paid little attention to any of Arthur's drawings, calling them a waste of time, or a useless ability that would get him nowhere in life. Arthur learned at a very early age that there was only one subject that captured even a sliver of appreciation from his father: the Pendragon crest. 

Arthur is actually almost grateful now for his father's ridiculous bias against the arts, because the result is that he could practically draw the crest blindfolded. And somehow, even though he has full use of his eyes, drawing with icing feels somewhat akin to trying to draw whilst blindfolded - and he knows, because one of his college art professors had them draw blindfolded a few times...something about increasing their awareness of the spatial characteristics of the subject and the memory of how the pencil moves across the paper when drawing it. Lucky for Arthur, his blindfolded drawing of the family crest was hands-down the best drawing in class that day.

Similarly, his golden icing rendition on maroon fondant is actually looking pretty awesome, if he does say so himself.

Oh bugger! Shite! Bloody dammit! Arthur rarely curses - another habit deeply ingrained by Uther - but this occasion is enough that he would really like to unleash every bit of foul language he's ever heard. He's taken up almost the entire cake topper with his crest, and forgotten to leave sufficient room to ask for Merlin’s forgiveness. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he decides to keep it simple, and merely writes, “Happy Birthday Merlin!” 

As he lifts the cake topper to critique it from all angles, he takes a good long look at the back of the topper and carefully writes the longer message that he'd been planning before he'd used up all of the space. He finishes just as he hears Noel shout, “If you were going to panic, now is the time. Bakers, you have five minutes left!” No need to panic, though, because Arthur is done. 

Although...still locked in the pantry.

Leaving the mess on the counter, Arthur carefully carries his beautiful cake topper with him to the pantry doors. He shifts the topper into one hand and begins banging with the other, but worries that he's going to destroy all of his hard work. He shifts the topper back into both hands, holding it like it's the most precious possession he's ever owned, and begins kicking on the door as he yells, “Someone open the door! I've been locked in here for an hour!”

His yells get more angry and less coherent as time passes without an answer. Why can't they hear him? Why isn't anyone opening the door?

Again, he hears Noel yell, and this time, it spells the end of his chances to put the topper on Merlin's cake, “Bakers, your time is up.”

Well, that's it. Arthur stops banging on the door. What's the point? He's completely buggered up the best thing that's happened to him in years. Merlin’s uncle Gauis will certainly complete the renovations on his apartment soon, and Merlin, taking Arthur’s ridiculous words to heart, will move and never speak to Arthur again. And really, why should he? Arthur is just a complete prat who makes everyone around him miserable with his self-centered workaholic tendencies and his inability to come to terms with his father's death. Hell, let's be realistic here. It isn't just his father's death that he can't come to terms with. It's his father's life. His expectations, or rather demands, of Arthur. 

The stupid eighties song playing over the speakers seems to be taunting him with the appropriateness of the words.

“And I want the one I can't have  
And it's driving me mad  
It's all over, all over, all over my face”

During Uther’s life, Arthur never managed to prove to his father that he'd be able to run the company. Arthur never settled down with any of the women that he dated - he never dated them very long anyway, never felt satisfied in his relationships - never got married, had kids. Uther with grandchildren! Now there's a thought that gives Arthur all of the feels. He regrets that their family never got to see how Uther would change, if at all, when faced with an adorable little granddaughter to spoil. Maybe his father would have been wrapped around her finger and softened into the role of a doting grandfather, in a way that he never had as a father. 

But, back to reality...more than any of the other things Uther disapproved of, he never would have accepted the idea of Arthur falling in love with his roommate. But Arthur is sick and tired of doing what his dead father would have wanted him to do. He’s thought of several improvements to make at Camelot, and Gwen and Leon have brought up additional ideas, but none of them have been implemented because they didn't align with how Uther did things. He’s never been satisfied in his personal relationships because he's always dated women who his father would have approved of...well, because he's always dated women, at least. His father rarely approved of any of them. From this moment forward, though, Arthur is determined to live his life the way he wants to live his life. 

“And I want the one I can't have  
And it's driving me mad  
It's written all over my face”

He begins kicking on the door with renewed vigor. He WILL get out of this room, and his cake topper WILL be added to Merlin’s cake, and Arthur WILL convince Merlin to forgive him. “Bloody open the bloody door!! Hello? Somebody! Anybody!”

When the door suddenly opens, Arthur almost falls into Leon mid-kick. He manages to right himself without destroying his cake topper, and glances out to the room, seeing Merlin at the front looking toward the commotion. He distractedly thanks Leon, hoping that his glance at Mithian extends his thanks to her as well, if she had anything to do with his rescue, but all he can really think of is getting to the front of the room with his cake topper. 

Arthur stalks toward the front of the room, announcing loudly, “I've been locked in the pantry for the past hour, but my part of our cake was complete before time was up. You have to let me add it to the cake Merlin baked.”

Peripherally, he sees Isolde smile smugly at her husband, as if she'd been expecting Arthur's demand somehow. Maybe she was the one who locked him into the pantry? But really she seems pleased by his current actions, so probably not, and why would she have done that to him anyway? He paid for this entire bake-off for everyone, so he can't understand why anyone would have locked him into the pantry...except for maybe the one person who was angry with him...he slows his steps, assessing his mood. Because really, the only opinion of any importance is Merlin's, and Arthur is happy to see that Merlin looks a bit relieved and maybe intrigued. That look is significantly better than the ones he was tossing at Arthur an hour ago, so hope blossoms in Arthur's chest.

Sir Geoffrey is huffing loudly about, “highly irregular” and “doors are difficult to lock” and “doesn't believe that's even possible.” But Noel seems to be nodding as if everything is suddenly making sense to him. Maybe Arthur was too hard on him earlier.

But then a crystal clear female voice rings out through the room, “Of course, Arthur Pendragon doesn't want the rules to apply to him. That's how Daddy raised him, isn't it?”


	20. Nimueh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - mentions of rape/sexual harassment, suicide, and mental illness. I have added a chapter summary at the end of the chapter if you would prefer to skip the chapter, or read the summary before deciding whether to read the chapter.
> 
> On a much lighter note, my apologies for the long delay. I'm a pretty slow writer, and this has gotten much larger and more involved than I ever planned. Thank you for reading!!

Nimueh is here for one reason, and one reason only. To prevent Arthur Fucking Pendragon, spawn of Satan himself, from winning. Her only goal in life for the past two years was to take Uther, better known as the devil, Pendragon down in any way she could. Unfortunately, he paid his lawyers much too well for her to get to him legally - not that she had any proof that would stand up in court - and his untimely death - while very satisfactory - didn't allay any of her anger or satisfy her need for a personal vendetta.

No, Nimueh’s own loss was still much too raw for anything other than vengeance to help her heal. 

When she went out on Friday night for a rare evening of relaxation, or attempt at it anyway, and heard Percy and the Knights talking about the texts they'd just received from Arthur, it was one of the most serendipitous moments of her life. She'd been there to enjoy the music, never expecting the golden heir himself to be there. She'd watched him laughing and drinking with his friends, bitterness clogging her throat that he could be happy while she is still so miserable. 

After Uther died, she'd shifted her hatred of him to his son, who had immediately inherited the corporation that had ruined her life. She'd hired a P.I. to follow Arthur, hoping to gather some dirt on him that might lead to true payback. Each and every report, for months, had been the same: the twenty-something CEO literally did nothing other than work and sleep. Nimueh had been slightly mollified by his apparent misery.

But the images burned into her vision Friday night showed a different story. Arthur wasn't miserable. He had looked as carefree as any of his friends, as any young adult should look - provided that young adult wasn't missing her mother every single minute of every single day. 

But no, that's not really it. She isn't just missing her mother.

No, she had missed her mother when she became distant, after starting work at Camelot Industries. At first, she'd tried to hide what was going on, but Nimeuh noticed the changes almost immediately. After a while, Nimueh began suspecting that Uther had been sexually harassing her, but her mother had stoically insisted that she was just exhausted from work. As the months went by, her mother isolated herself more and more, refusing to answer phone calls, then ignoring even texts. She didn't answer the door when friends checked on her, but Nimueh had a key and would let herself in. Even then, her mother just shut her out, not speaking, hardly replying. 

That's when she was missing her mother. 

She’d questioned how her mom even managed to get dressed and go to work each day, but somehow she did. It was only her personal life, not her professional life, that she allowed to wither and die. Nimueh couldn't think of any reason for the changes other than a forced affair, with a boss who held the power to destroy the career that her mother had worked so hard to forge at a time when women weren't often found in the tech field.

Nimueh had pressed her mother to confide in her, thinking that would be the first step to putting a stop to an affair that she'd never wanted in the first place. But of course, if Nim's suspicions were correct, her mother was likely afraid - if ever she told her monstrous boss, ‘No,’ she'd be fired and never find another job in her field again. Nim had told herself, at the time, that for a pioneer in the computer programming field, losing her career might sound like a fate worse than losing her right to decide what happened to her own body. 

Eventually, she was fired, just as Nim had predicted. But rather than get better once she escaped her abuser, to Nimueh's complete devastation, her mother ended her own life within the week.

Nim knew now that she had been oversimplifying things...there was so much more to it than her own black and white view of the affair. Uther the devil Pendragon had stolen everything from her mother - her confidence, then her choice, then her career, and finally her life. Oh, he might not have been the one who ultimately took her life, but he was most assuredly the one who had driven her to it.

So Nimueh doesn't just miss her mother, she rages for vengeance for everything that was taken from her.

After two years of living and breathing vengeance with every spare moment of her time - and not one thing to show for it - hearing the band discuss plans for a bake-off seemed like a gift from heaven. Nimueh decided on the spot that preventing Arthur Pendragon from winning a stupid cake bake off, and maybe, if she's lucky, even humiliating him in the process - while nowhere near the payback that the Pendragon family deserves - would be better than her current score of no payback at all. 

She had known, from watching them throughout the evening that both Percy and Mordred appeared spoken for. And although Leon was rather dishy in his tight skinny jeans, she'd gotten a good-boy, straight-laced vibe off him that made her think he wasn't the right choice for her plans. But Elyan had seemed like just the right combination of sexy bad-boy, single, and ready for a weekend fling. Sure enough, when Nim had turned on her charm, Elyan had been instantly on board. Before they'd headed back to his place, she’d made a point of telling him that her one rule was that she never ever had one night stands - to avoid them, she insisted on committing to an entire weekend, Friday night through Monday morning. Elyan had agreed to her stipulation without any hesitation.

She congratulated herself on that bit of genius for multiple reasons: it had ensured that he’d bring her as his date to the bake-off, and, surprisingly, this had literally been the best weekend of her life. There had even been several moments where she'd completely lost sight of her objective...and Elyan, too, seemed to truly enjoy her company, even though she'd made no attempt to sugarcoat her admittedly demanding and prickly nature. He honestly seemed to like her just as she is. Of course, none of that will matter after tonight. This was a weekend fling punctuated at the end by her first victory against the Pendragons.

And what an easy victory it will be. She'd been worried all weekend, in between the really amazing bits, about how to make and decorate a cake that would ensure Arthur's defeat, only to find that his friends apparently hate him as much as she does. They locked him in the pantry halfway through the bake-off, leaving Nim content in the knowledge that her cake wouldn't even have to be the winner to humiliate the prick. 

Her cake actually isn’t half bad, though if she’s being honest, she isn't sure that it would beat all of the others. She and Elyan had done a test bake the day before, and their vanilla cake with lemon curd between the layers and a lemon buttercream icing had tasted divine - of course, there's always the risk that the judges don't like lemon as much as she does. 

She hadn't actually tested the decorations, but her idea to do a Chinese red dragon snaking its way around the side of the cake, using circles of fondant to give the effect of scales and triangles of fondant for its ridge spikes, had seemed brilliantly simple. She hadn't really factored in the difficulty of the head and feet, but she managed to get those done while the cakes baked, the lemon curd cooled, and Elyan cut circles and triangles. Luckily, she'd seen a tip about using an edible food coloring marker, and the black detailing on her red dragon face and feet really brought them to life. Once those were done, she'd whipped up the lemon buttercream fairly quickly, though somehow, she's still feeling very behind when Noel yells out that only fifteen minutes remain. 

She and Elyan have gotten the cakes stacked with the lemon curd between each layer, and they've iced the cake with their lemon buttercream and covered that with a smooth butter-yellow fondant to give their dragon a background that won't distract, but they've only gotten about a third of the dragon placed in fifteen minutes and only have fifteen minutes to go. Well, actually, she’s done most of the work because she hasn’t entrusted any of the more complex steps to Elyan, especially not placing the decorations, or icing the cakes, or smoothing the fondant. She takes a deep, steadying breath, muttering to herself, “You’ve got this, Nim!” And looking the cake over, she realizes that she does have it...if she lets Elyan help. He’s done a perfect job of every task she’s given him so far, so why should decorating be any different?

“Elyan, start at the tail and fill in the body with circles where I’ve finished the outline while I complete the outline of the front and head. Be sure that the circles overlap like scales, with the back ones under the front, and randomly intersperse the small circles with the larger ones.” She gets back to work, idly wondering if that sounded bitchy, but if it did it’s too bad. She gets abrupt when she’s in a hurry and focusing. And right now, she is definitely focused. She keeps having to remind herself that Arthur is already beaten, that she doesn’t have to win. But it doesn’t change the fact that she still wants to win. A part of her even wants to defeat Arthur’s friends, since she’s been robbed of the chance to compete against her nemesis head on. But that’s unimportant compared with the fact that Arthur has already suffered humiliation today. 

She breathes in calm, willing her mind to enjoy these last few minutes of the competition, telling her body that the fight or flight feeling that has been her companion for most of the past two years isn’t needed right now. Of course, her body doesn’t listen. It never does. She’s been in a state of almost constant panic since she found her mother’s lifeless body. She keeps hoping that a victory against the Pendragons will finally ease the panic, give her a respite from her mission.

She places scale after scale, shaping the body of the snakelike dragon, wrapping it's way around the side of her cake as if it is part of a Chinese New Year celebratory parade. Elyan works his way from the back of the dragon, around the cake toward the front, toward where she's working, overlapping the fondant scales, gluing them to the side of the cake with dollops of buttercream. As their work converges, they continue working frantically, with their hips glued together almost as tightly as the fondant is to the cake, and their hands maneuvering to attach the decorations without impeding the work of the other. They are almost done, and Nim finds herself actually feeling satisfaction for the first time in forever. They're going to finish in time and the cake looks amazing! Better even than she'd hoped.

When Noel bellows, "Bakers, your time is up," Elyan proceeds to stick the fondant circle in his hand onto the cake, and then Nim follows suit, filling the final hole. Sticking their hands up in the air to show that they aren't continuing to work after time expired, she smiles widely at Elyan. He's the one who made this moment possible, and as she savours the moment, she allows herself to imagine a future with him. Nothing so elaborate as love and marriage and happiness. No, she's fairly certain that a future involving for better or worse and in sickness or health is beyond her capacity. But a future wherein he doesn't hate her for being hostile to his friend, a future involving at least another night together, and maybe a few more tacked on...those are seeming extremely possible right now.

But then she glances down at the cake and sees that it isn't amazing at all. That last fondant circle...the one that she placed...didn't completely fill the final gap. It could have. It would have been big enough to do so, but she didn't manage to position it quite right in her haste to put her hands up. There's a spot of butter-yellow showing right above her dragon's front legs. Somehow that flaw represents her life. She's never managed to get anything just exactly perfect, despite her OCD drive for perfection. And as tears that she won't shed begin to fill her eyes, she knows that Elyan can see them, and that he's going to know just exactly how much crazy she holds inside every moment of every day. He's going to judge her. And she'll be lacking, because she always has been. 

She turns her back to him and surreptitiously swipes away the unshed tears. Just because he can see them doesn't mean that everyone has to know. But Elyan surprises her, his voice soft, not judgemental. "You know, Smaug was missing a scale too. That's how Bard the Bowman managed to bring him down." 

Maybe he's the one holding in some crazy, because he apparently expects her to understand whatever gibberish he's spouting. "What?" She shakes her head slightly, knowing that her confusion is painted across her face.

"You know. The Hobbit?" Elyan apparently sees that she's still lost, because he continues, "Jesus Christ, woman. Next weekend. We're going to watch all three Hobbit movies and follow up with all three Lord of the Rings! I can't believe you've never seen them!"

She can't believe that he's still making plans with her, even after seeing her crazy rear its ugly head.

"You know...forget Smaug. Have you ever heard about the ancient Japanese philosophy that suggested that every work of art should include an intentional flaw. They believed that perfection is of the gods, so any artist who tried to achieve it would bring down their wrath. It's called wabi-sabi. So stop fretting and embrace the beauty of your cake...and come over here and embrace me!" He takes her hand and tugs her gently into his arms, pulling her so that they are both looking sideways at the cake. "See. It's beautiful, just like it's maker is." 

Again she finds herself imagining the possibilities, as she replies, "Both of its makers." 

But a commotion at the back of the room brings her back to reality, back to her goals, back to her life. She doesn't get to have dreams of the future. And even her plans for the day are seeming to crumble, as she hears the second most hated voice in the world shouting, “I've been locked in the pantry for the past hour, but my part of our cake was complete before time was up. You have to let me add it to the cake Merlin baked."

No no no no no no no no no no! Everything was going so well. But she can't let Arthur succeed at anything today. And why does he think that he should be allowed to add something to a cake after the time has expired? She isn't allowed to adjust the tiny scale that's out of place. So Arthur bloody Pendragon shouldn't be allowed to add a giant bloody cake topper! Without even thinking through what she's going to do or say, she finds herself announcing, “Of course, Arthur Pendragon doesn't want the rules to apply to him. That's how Daddy raised him, isn't it?”

And as he's rushing to the front of the room...right past her...she puts her foot out. The look of surprise on his face is priceless. He's surprised to have someone call him on his sense of entitlement, but he's even more surprised to find his legs tangling upon themselves and the floor heading toward his face. If that's all she gets, then it was worth it. Her future with Elyan is certainly gone now, erased by her impulsive act, but that was always secondary to her chance to achieve even a tiny victory against the Pendragon family.

But then she's the one surprised, as Arthur manages to steady himself. He keeps from hitting the floor, and his cake topper, though damaged on one side, is unscathed on the other.

"What the bloody hell is your problem, woman? I've never done anything to you to deserve this kind of treatment. Elyan? Can you control your date?" Arthur's face has turned red, from his angry rant or from embarrassment? She hopes the latter. Regardless, in for a penny, in for a pound. It's time to...finally...have her say.

"No, you haven't, but I'm sure the apple didn't fall far from the tree. And since your father destroyed my life, and then had the good sense to die before I could exact vengeance, I believe it's my responsibility to prevent you from doing the same to the women who work under you."

Her speech is only slightly marred by the fact that Elyan, behind her, spins her to face him right as she finishes. "What the hell are you doing, Nim? Arthur paid for all of us to enjoy today and you're repaying him by tripping him and insulting him? Insulting his deceased father, no less? What! the! fuck?!?!!"

Elyan is history to her. Unimportant. Some small part of her mourns the loss of what could have been, but she doesn't even bother with a reply, before turning back to Arthur. "The biggest question I have, since your father can no longer hurt anyone, is whether you knew what he was doing. Did you cover up your father's affairs? Enable him to force his subordinates to have sex with him or lose their jobs...to rape my mother?"

"That's preposterous! My father loved my mother! After her death, he never so much as looked at another woman!" Arthur's outrage is either real or he's the best actor Nim has ever seen. But, really?

"Are you really so naive that you think a powerful man like your father would give up on sex for over twenty years just because of the loss of his love? Men like your father...like you...don't have sex for love. It's about power. It's about showing a woman that you can make her do whatever you want...and get away with it. It's about taking away a woman's options until the only way she can see to escape is to take her own life." Her voice breaks at the end there, and she wants to add more. To inflict a wound that mirrors her own. Nim knows that her research doesn't back this up - the private investigators never found any hint of an affair in Arthur's actions - but her emotions are in control of her words right now, so she doesn't bother to stop herself from accusing, "And how many women have you taken advantage of, Arthur? How many lives have you ruined?" Surprisingly, his eyes flick to Merlin, then over to his sister. There's definitely no guilt in his demeanor; no quick, overly emphatic denial to cover up guilt either. Maybe he really is as innocent of his father's crimes as he seems.

From behind her, Elyan shouts, "That's enough, Nim. We're leaving." And he literally picks her up in a fireman hold, tosses her over his shoulder, and begins walking toward the door. Her thrashing to get free doesn't even add a hint of strain to his voice as he says, "My apologies to everyone for the uproar. Sorry Arthur." 

As they get to the door, Arthur's voice fills the room, "Elyan, wait." Elyan stops moving, but still keeps a firm hold on Nim and doesn't turn around. "If Nim truly has an accusation against my father - if she has proof - and would like to present her case, have her call Morgana. I would NEVER cover up sexual misconduct, and if she provides the details, we will investigate."

Elyan does turn slightly at this and replies, "I know you wouldn't, Arthur. We all do." Then more quietly, "I'm sorry that we ruined your birthday celebration, Merlin." Without waiting for a reply, he stalks through both sets of castle doors and out to his car, not setting her down until he's managed to open the passenger door. He deposits her on the ground, but somehow turns that motion into folding her into her seat and buckling the belt. Then, without a word, he rounds the car, gets into the driver's seat, and starts toward the city. 

For her part, Nim is too stunned to speak for several minutes. It literally never occurred to her that Arthur or his sister might actually listen to her allegations. Not once. Of course, he could have just been saying that they'd listen because there was a room full of witnesses. And there's also that little catch he added about proof. She has none. Honestly, all she has are suspicions. Her mother never even acknowledged that her suspicions were correct.

She finally manages to ask, in a voice that sounds much too small to be hers, "Do you truly think he will investigate?" just as Elyan asks, "So were you just using me from the moment you approached me? None of this was real? How exactly do you find it ok to use me - to use sex - to try to attain justice for alleged sexual abuse?"

Elyan bangs his hand on the steering wheel several times, then pulls over to the side of the road. "Hell yes! Arthur will investigate. He's a good man, Nim. An honest man." He puts so much stress on the word honest that she feels like it's a hammer pounding on her heart; his gaze a set of scales, weighing her crimes and finding her guilty. When did she lose sight of being a good and honest person in her search for justice for her mother? Perhaps when she began thinking of it as vengeance? Probably so.

It's all too difficult to answer, to speak when she's being judged, but she manages the one answer that matters most. "I'm sorry, Elyan. It wasn't real at first, but you turned it real." 

He still looks pissed, but slightly less so, staring into her eyes - into her soul - seeking the truth of her words for several minutes before getting back on the road. "Then let's head back to mine and hear the whole bloody story and see if we can work things out. Then I'll take tomorrow off and go with you to talk to Morgana and Arthur. You promised me that this fling wouldn't end before Monday morning. And I intend to hold you to that promise."

And Nim wonders if maybe she's managed to find the first stone on a path that might eventually lead her to a place where she's happy again...at least for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nimueh's mother worked at Camelot Industries. Nimueh suspected that she was being sexually harassed, forced into an unwanted sexual relationship, in order to retain her job, though she has no proof of this suspicion. Her mother exhibited severe signs of mental illness, leading to being fired, and then to her taking her own life. Nimueh has wanted revenge against the Pendragon family ever since, but has had no opportunity until she heard Percy and the Knights discussing the Bake-off plans. She immediately propositioned Elyan for a one-weekend stand, providing herself with her first chance to do something, anything, to get back at the Pendragons. When Arthur emerges from the pantry, expecting to put his cake topper on Merlin's cake after time has run out, she trips him, damaging the cake topper, but not destroying it. Nim then confronts Arthur, accusing him of being just like his father, before she is carried out of the room by Elyan. Right before they leave, Arthur asks her to come to the office with proof and swears to investigate. Contrary to Nim's expectations, Elyan doesn't ditch her after her show of insanity.


	21. Gwen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judgement Time!!

"Oh God, that was a nightmare." Gwen whispers under her breath, then hopes that her words were quiet enough that no one could hear. The room is mostly silent, though, with the accusations of her brother's date still echoing through everyone's heads. 

That's really going to rattle both Arthur and Morgana, but Gwen thinks that maybe they can get their thoughts focused back on today's events for now and save the fretting for later, in private. She, for one, has no idea what to make of Nim's claim. So she takes a metaphorical deep breath and dives in to do what she does best: organize, smooth things over, and sooth people's stress.

She addresses Arthur's request first. "If Arthur was somehow locked in the pantry for an hour, I think his creation should be added to Merlin's cake. He was obviously finished with it prior to the call that time was up." She heads toward the center of the room, where Arthur is still standing, cradling his cake topper and staring into space, obviously lost in thought, after being accosted by Nim. The front of Arthur's shirt is smeared with the frosting that had originally decorated the back of his topper, but he managed to protect the design on the other side, even if the whole thing looks a bit off-center after being smashed into his chest when he stumbled. "Does anyone disagree?"

She can't imagine anyone piping up with disagreement after Nim's verbal attack, but still...someone must have it out for him, if they locked him in the pantry. Although, of course, that was probably Nim all along. Seeing her husband’s nod of agreement and hearing no argument, she gently takes Arthur's arm, and tugs him to Merlin's table. He doesn't resist her pull, seemingly too preoccupied to even notice her, but when she moves his hands toward Merlin's cake, his eyes seem to regain some focus, and he helps her push the dowels sticking down from his creation into the top of the cake.

She casts her gaze around the room, assessing the mood, the readiness, then walks back over to clasp Lance's hand before locking eyes with Noel and giving him a prodding nod. Still stunned, he stares for a moment longer before catching on with a silent "Oh." Then he announces loudly, "Bakers, it's judgement time!"

Sir Geoffrey takes over to explain the way judging works, since it is very different from the television show. In his voice that sounds like the rasp of old parchment on a wooden table, he announces, "Since admiring and tasting the cakes is just as much fun as designing and baking, each of you gets to be a judge now too. Please take one ballot per person and pass them back." He hands a small stack of clipboards with a slip of paper attached to each to Merlin at the front left table and to Gwen at the front right, then Noel hands them each a small bundle of colored gel pens. Gwen passes a clipboard to Lance, takes one for herself, then passes the stack to Morgana. Next she chooses a purple pen, hands Lance a green one, and passes the rest back. "Each of you will assess points to each of the ten cakes, starting with appearance. You will award up to ten points for the overall look of the cake plus up to another ten points for how the dragon theme is incorporated. After we've all assessed a cake for looks, we will move on to the best part."

Noel finishes in a sing-song voice, that sounds like he has a bubble in the back of his throat, "Tasting!! Yuuuuum!"

Noel herds everyone to Merlin and Arthur's table, where the slightly smudged cake topper draws Gwen's gaze. Poor Arthur is wearing the other side of that. When she notices the intact word 'I'm' on his shirt, she finds herself pondering what the back might have said, trying to find other letters or words. Judging from the smears, there was a whole sentence on there. 

As Noel begins describing the cake, Geoffrey snaps photos from all sides with a professional looking camera. "Merlin's three-tiered vegan cake is a coffee infused red velvet sponge with almond Bailey's Irish Cream coconut frosting." Noel's soft description sounds exactly like he does on the tele when he announces the plan for an in-process bake. "The dark grey dragon scales appear burnt, eliciting visions of a mother fire dragon flaming her eggs to induce them to hatch. The cake topper, constructed using rice krispie treats and fondant, features the Pendragon family crest." Gwen idly wonders how he knows so many details about Merlin's cake and whether Noel is about to whip out a lovely sketch of Merlin's cake plans, but then she begins focusing on scoring. 

As she gets started, Merlin adds to Noel's description, "The inside is as important to the appearance as the outside." When he slices it, exposing a deep blood-red cake that accents a reddish hue to the grey scales that hadn't been apparent before, Gwen finds herself agreeing with him. Then Merlin begins pouring shots of Almond Bailey's for everyone, commenting, "On the show, they call this a bribe, but I figure it's just a good way to start the tasting." Handing the small glasses out to everyone and keeping the final one for himself, he lifts it. "Thank you all for helping me celebrate my birthday this weekend, and thanks especially to Arthur, for making today possible. Cheers!"

Gwen very happily raises her glass to everyone around her, replying "Cheers!" in almost-unison with all of them and feeling warm inside that Merlin managed to bring a small smile to Arthur's face even after the scene that Nimueh just caused.

Merlin's dragon scales are a single color rendition of the same technique that Lance used on their cake, and Gwen really likes the effect of the grey looking burnt against the deep red of the cake. The Pendragon Crest on top adds to the dragon theme, and amazingly, the maroon of the crest is an almost perfect match for the cake beneath it. And even though there might be better looking cakes, and cakes that required more skill, she decides to give Merlin a solid nine on both appearance and incorporation of the dragon theme. Besides, this Bailey's is super yummy, and it IS Merlin's birthday after all.

Geoffrey gives everyone a couple of minutes to finish their Bailey's and write down their appearance scores before intoning, "For the tasting, you will each award up to ten points for the consistency of the cake."

Noel expands on this category, his tone sounding like this is a rehearsed speech, "Is it moist, dry, overcooked, or undercooked? Does it have an added crunch that you enjoy? Or is it smooth and decadent?" He then laughs quietly and says in a more natural voice, "Never before have I known less about what I'm saying."

Geoffrey gives him a scolding look that carries too much fondness to do any good, then continues, "You may award up to ten points for the uniqueness of the recipe, ingredients used, and flavors achieved. And finally, the most important category, up to thirty points for overall taste."

"The point limits are at the top of each column, in case you forget," Noel adds helpfully as he passes forks to each of them while Geoffrey cuts and plates twenty-two small slices. Gwen's hands are itching to help, but she resists her urge to step in and speed things up. 

When Lance hands her a plate, she sets her clipboard on the table and slides the fork in to cut a bite that includes about three-fourths cake to one-fourth icing: the perfect ratio for a bite of cake. She can't help the moan of appreciation that escapes her as she tastes it, but her embarrassment is tempered by the echoing sounds all around her. "God, Merlin, this is fantastic!"

Lance comments right on top of hers with, "I'll have to get your recipe and add this to the menu at the shop, Merlin!"

She immediately puts top scores for each of the taste categories, and then...not caring one whit about the other nine cakes she's about to taste…she polishes off the rest of her piece while moving on to Mordred and Kara's.

(Inspiration for Merlin's cake: https://livforcake.com/game-of-thrones-dragonscale-cake/)

Noel describes their cake in the same tone, and with the same abnormally detailed knowledge that he did Merlin's. "Mordred and Kara have made a chocolate pound cake, with dark chocolate ganache between each of the six layers. The cake is carved into the shape of a dragon egg and covered in black fondant dragon scales that have been painted with red pearl dust to give them a shimmery, otherworldly look."

They did a nice job of shaping the cake into an egg, which is fairly difficult, but their decorations are otherwise very simple. The recipe is similarly pretty basic, but their flavors are good. Unfortunately, the cake is slightly too dry, though the ganache rescues it with a bit of added moisture. Gwen gives them medium-high marks on overall taste and incorporation of the dragon theme (a twenty-two and eight respectively), low marks for uniqueness of ingredients (a three), and middle marks for the other two categories (fives for each category). 

As she finishes scoring their cake, Arthur says, "Hang on, what about the strawberries?" He's glowering at Mordred as he says this, and Gwen is surprised to see the tell-tale signs of blushing covering Mordred's cheeks before he turns without answering to head back to Leon's table. Kara answers, but sounds rather unconvincing, "We were originally planning to have a strawberry ganache instead of dark chocolate, until Mordred accidentally spilled the strawberries.” Arthur's glower turns slightly more speculative, but he doesn't avert his attention from Mordred's back until Noel begins describing Leon and Mithian's cake.

(Inspiration for Mordred and Kara's cake: https://www.cakecentral.com/gallery/i/3371843/game-of-thrones-large-dragon-egg-cake)

"Mithian and Leon have created a lovely woodlands scene, centered on a moss-covered tree stump covered in several types of mushroom. The baby forest dragon sleeping on top fits right in -- because he looks like a fun guy." Noel accentuates the last two words to highlight his pun, and then, after a pause for laughter that is conspicuously absent, describes the inside of the cake. "The tree stump is composed of a spicy vegan carrot cake filled with shredded carrots, finely chopped pecans, and chunks of pineapple, as well as cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and nutmeg. The bark around the outside and top of the stump is a vegan cream cheese frosting."

Gwen gives them perfect tens for overall appearance and incorporation of the dragon theme, then can't stop herself from exclaiming, "Mithian, that's the cutest dragon I've ever seen!!" She's not surprised to see Merlin nod his agreement. "You'll have to teach me how to make one."

Mithian smiles like she's in on a private joke, and agrees, "It's the cutest dragon I've ever seen as well, but Leon will have to teach us how to make one. That was all his doing." 

"Really?" Gwen can't hide her surprise, and is embarrassed to hear the words in her head coming out of her mouth, "I thought we'd found your hidden talents when you joined a band, but now it seems you're also a talented sculptor?"

Leon looks slightly abashed at the praise, but then his gaze flits to Mithian and he replies, "Yes, well, Gwen, I have many talents. You've failed to notice them, that's all." His shy smirk takes any sting from his words, and Gwen is glad that she hasn't offended him.

Lance hands her a piece of the carrot cake, and she takes a bite. It's really good carrot cake. The consistency is perfect, moist and rich, with lots of texture in each bite from the carrots, pecans, and pineapples. The cake isn't overly sweet, which allows the sweetness of the icing to shine without overpowering. She gives them an almost perfect twenty-nine for overall flavor and a nine for consistency. However, there isn't anything unusual or impressive about the ingredients. Sticking with the score that she gave Mordred and Kara - yet feeling slightly guilty about giving this cake anything less than a high score - they only get a three for the uniqueness of the recipe.

(Inspiration for Mithian and Leon's cake: https://cookieconnection.juliausher.com/clip/psleepy-dragon-cake-the-woodsy-wife-bakery

https://minimalistbaker.com/how-to-make-vegan-cream-cheese-frosting/)

The next table holds the simplest cake they've seen yet, but Noel's description helps Gwen find a deeper appreciation for their theme. "Tristan and Isolde have created an ode to their dearest friend Merlin, as each detail on the cake was selected specifically to pay tribute to memories of their friendship over the years. The cake itself is a three-layer vegan chocolate cake with vegan chocolate buttercream, paying tribute to Merlin's commitment to protecting animals through his choice to adhere to a strict vegan diet, as well as his love of all things chocolate. Topping the cake are four dungeons and dragons figurines. The two on the left represent Tristan's elvish ranger and Isolde's elvish druid, and the two on the right are Merlin's human warrior and his dearest childhood friend Will's half-elf paladin." 

Gwen glances over at Merlin to see him sandwiched between Tristan and Isolde, their arms entangled into a three-way hug as tears stream down Merlin's face over a ghost of a nostalgic smile. Arthur, behind them, is shuffling nervously, eyes glued to Merlin in what Gwen reads as concern, though someone who didn't know Arthur so well might see annoyance. "The four combatants are facing a glittery red dragon cake topper, who hovers above a pile of edible golden glitter, honoring Merlin's favorite fantasy animal, the fire dragon, and bringing to mind the dragon Smaug from the Hobbit. The top of the cake is rimmed by small circles of chocolate fondant with a d20 design pressed into them - all natural twenties, of course, with the wish that Merlin will always have the best of everything in his life. Around the sides of the cake, they have written in a beautiful script 'Dovie'andi se tovya sagain.' Which means 'It's time to toss the dice' in the old tongue of the series The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan. This phrase recalls memories of more hours than they could ever count of reading and re-reading the fourteen-book series together, both before and after it's completion, and of creating and discarding theory after theory about how things would culminate when the characters finally reached the last battle. And finally, also written in the old tongue script around the side of the cake is 'Happy birthday, Merlin.'"

Gwen doesn't blame Merlin for his tear-streaked cheeks, as she's gotten rather misty-eyed herself, hearing all of the ways that the couple incorporated Merlin's favorite things into this cake. Even though it's the simplest, she finds herself almost wanting them to win, just for their dedication to their friend. She gives them tens for appearance and incorporation of the theme. 

Tasting the cake, however, it's such a basic chocolate cake, that she finds herself falling back to her previous standards for scoring. The cake isn't nearly as tasty as Merlin's or Mithian's, so she only gives it a twenty for overall taste, a seven for consistency, and a three for uniqueness. She also gives them a huge smile of gratitude for giving her this insight into Merlin's psyche as she moves to the back table of this row.

(Inspirations for Tristan and Isolde's cake:  
https://www.google.com/search?q=d20+cake&client=ms-android-verizon&prmd=sivn&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiakPeW3-vjAhUNUt8KHROZBLsQ_AUoAnoECA0QAg&biw=360&bih=559#imgrc=fQCOeSzEF5zJIM%3A

https://www.etsy.com/listing/278573220/dragon-cake-topper-medieval-party

https://www.etsy.com/listing/656821523/d20-die-227-412-cookie-cutter-and-stamp?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=dice+mold&ref=sr_gallery-1-14)

At this table, Morgause and Cenred have poured shots of amaretto for everyone. Cenred raises a glass and says, "Cheers everyone. Merlin may claim that his shots weren't a bribe, but let's be realistic, these totally are." His laugh almost sounds menacing, but Gwen has always suspected that Morgause was actually the one you needed to keep an eye on out of the two of them. She was always such a bitch to Arthur that Gwen could never bring herself to like her, not even for Morgana's sake. Everyone takes a shot of amaretto and joins his toast before Noel describes their cake.

"Morgause has made a Pillsbury yellow cake mix with instant vanilla pudding added to lock in the moisture. Her inattention to details like oven temperature and bake time have really led to disaster on today's bake. The cake baked for thirty minutes at too low of a temp, and then was turned too high for the final fifteen minutes, leading to a cake that is overdone and dry on the outside, but practically uncooked at the center." Gwen wishes that she had the guts to turn on the video function on her phone right now. She would really love to watch a slow motion replay of the flush that swept up Morgause's face as Noel exposed her as a fraud in today's competition. "Cenred made a nice amaretto glaze - albeit quite heavy-handed on the amaretto - to top the cake, which was baked in a lovely pan that depicts a mother dragon curled around her three eggs."

Gwen would love to know how Noel managed to find out so many details about everyone's cakes. Up until this one, she had assumed that he'd just been asking delving questions to all of the competitors, but she's sure Morgause wouldn't have admitted her cheating tactics to Noel. 

Morgause begins gathering up her purse and bag to leave. Then, as she is almost to the door, apparently trying to regain some of her dignity, she begins berating Cenred in a whisper yell that she clearly knows everyone can hear, "All you had to do was set the oven and watch the cake, but you couldn't even do that, right, could you?"

Cenred's reply as he follows her out the door is too quiet to hear. Gwen almost feels sorry for him.

Arthur breaks the silence following their departure with a sharp comment to Morgana. “Sister dear, please refrain from inviting your cousin anywhere, ever again.”

Gwen always finds it amusing when they use thinly veiled sarcasm and sweet pet names for one another to cover up their annoyance with something the other has done.

“She’s your cousin too, Arthur.” 

“Yes, but I don’t claim her.” He has his hands on his hips, looking thoughtfully toward the back of the room. “Plus, I’m pretty sure she locked me in the pantry.”

Morgana laughs. “But why would she do a thing like that, sweet brother of mine?”

Arthur’s response is a mumbled “Good question.” 

With that, Gwen suddenly becomes aware - apparently just as everyone else does - that she is hanging on every word the Pendragons are saying to one another, instead of scoring Morgause and Cenred so they can move on. Although she typically hates to give anyone zeros in a competition, she truly thinks these are well-deserved. And even though they've left and won't ever know their score, Gwen takes a slight satisfaction in finally giving Morgause what she deserves.

(Inspiration for Morgause and Cenred's cake: http://www.fiction-food.com/2016/03/dragon-cake.html?m=1  
A/N: I have this pan, and love it, but it really is persnickety about time and temp.)

They move across the aisle to Gaius and Alice's table, and Gwen thinks to herself that Lance will be happy that his cake will be the final one judged in the competition. Saving the best for last, and all that.

"Gaius and Alice have prepared a lovely vegan kumquat and dragonfruit cardamom cake. This single-layer cake achieves its good looks through the alternating placement of the dragonfruit and kumquat prior to baking. Although this cake has a fairly basic recipe, the flavors achieved are surprisingly complex. The delicate flavor of the dragonfruit blends nicely with the yellow cake, but the kumquat adds an unexpected tart kick - well, now you'll be expecting it, since I gave away the surprise - and a light dusting of raw sugar before baking provides a hint of extra sweetness and texture. If Alice ever asks me round for tea, I'll be there!"

Even though it's a simple cake, it is rather elegant. It's a lovely golden color with the fruit arranged beautifully on top. Gwen could imagine seeing it served at the royal palace. She decides to forgo comparisons with the other cakes and just appreciate it for its own merits, and gives it a nine for appearance. However, while using dragonfruit to fulfill the theme is witty, she doesn't think it is worthy of such high marks - a six, then.

Alice's cake is the only one without icing, or at least a glaze, and the cake is almost savory by comparison. Gwen welcomes the change, thinking Alice was actually brilliant to have done such a light and delicate cake. As she again gives high scores, she hears Noel comment, “Mmm, that's good. I taste the cardamom. I don't even know what that is, I just said it,” and she giggles quietly at his antics.

(Inspiration for Gauis and Alice’s cake: https://kirbiecravings.com/dragon-fruit-cake/)

The next table, now empty save for the beautiful cream colored cake with a red Chinese dragon winding its way around the side, was where her brother and Nim had been. Gwen catches herself looking at the door, possibly for the hundredth time since her brother left with a vindictive and possibly unhinged woman, worrying about his safety with her, and hoping he'll come back here after dropping her off, so that she'll know he's safe.

As everyone shuffles past this table, following Noel and Geoffrey, she wonders why they aren’t tasting the cake, until it occurs to her that someone as vengeful as Nimueh might have poisoned her cake, not caring that it would sicken or kill others as long as it achieved her goal of getting back at the Pendragons. She doesn't think it is actually likely, but she supposes humans have done worse things to each other. Gwen shakes her head, wishing that Nim could see how different Arthur is from his father. 

Could Uther really have done what Nim claimed? If so, she can’t blame the girl for being upset. Her own mother died when she and Elyan were both very young, so she knows what it’s like to miss your mother, but only in a rather vague sense. She can hardly remember her mother’s face now, except from photos. However, if she’s ever put in the position of losing her father because of a powerful man like Uther, well, she has no idea how she would react. Thank God she’s never been in that position! But she’d like to imagine that she would handle it better than Nim had. 

(Inspiration for Nimueh and Elyan’s cake: http://www.curlygirlkitchen.com/2013/10/chinese-red-dragon-cake.html?m=1)

They all gather around Percy's table, and once again, Gwen is impressed by the adorable scene in front of them...though this time, she doesn't make the mistake of assuming that cute means that the woman of the table made it. This cake looks like the perfect birthday cake for a little boy's birthday party. Gwen can just imagine having a How to Train Your Dragon party with a three year old who has Lance's soulful brown eyes and her curls, skin a gorgeous light brown with a slight olive tone. He'd be headstrong like his daddy, but have a streak of kindness a mile wide. Her daydream is interrupted by Noel's soft voice.

"Percival and Freya have created an idyllic scene from How to Train Your Dragon. Their two-layer ginger spice cake is coated with a honey buttercream crumb layer and then topped with grey fondant. The uneven surface under the fondant provides a more realistic look to the rock face." 

Gwen sees Percy wince slightly at the mention of the uneven surface, then turn it into a thoughtful nod by the end of the sentence. 

"The grey fondant rock is also covered with patchy spots of green fondant grass, small darker grey fondant boulders, and several brown fondant vines. Of course the focal point of the cake is Freya's near perfect rendition of Toothless, the main dragon in the movie series. Freya's sculpture highlights the more feline qualities of Toothless, which are also quite obvious in his mannerisms throughout the movies. As a result of his feline tendencies, we Goths have renamed the series How to Train Your Bastet, and have created a petition to have the name officially changed. So far, the petition has been largely ignored, but you should never discount a Goth's opinion about creatures of the night. Freya and Percival have finished their cake with a handwritten "Happy Birthday, Merlin" across the top."

Gwen shakes her head slightly, wondering about Noel's sanity as she jots down her scores for their cake's appearance. She intentionally discounts Noel's opinion that their Toothless sculpture isn't a dragon at all, but is instead a Bastet, and gives them perfect tens for overall appearance and incorporation of the dragon theme. 

When she takes a bite, however, the perfect scores end. The cake is overly sweet, possibly partially due to the comparison to Alice's cake before it, and the flavors just aren't a perfect match. Plus, she's never been a fan of the flavor or texture of fondant. Gwen gives them a nineteen on overall taste, an eight for uniqueness of ingredients, and a seven for consistency...all the while feeling terribly guilty for giving them anything less than perfect for such a cute cake.

As she looks up to flash an unintentionally apologetic smile at Freya, she catches sight of Percy carefully lifting the Bastet - err dragon - into a small paper take-home carton and sealing it. When he turns back to his date, Gwen would swear that his eyes literally have cartoon hearts in them, he's so enamored. Gwen is happy for them both, her dismal scores on their cake notwithstanding. They deserve each other, and the obvious bliss that their budding romance is bringing them.

(Inspiration for Percival and Freya's cake: https://www.flickr.com/photos/torontocakes/5845963459  
https://www.boudewijnsbakery.co.uk/how-to-train-your-dragon-toothless-cake-286-p.asp)

Everyone moves on to Gwaine and Morgana's table, to the most elegant presentation yet. Gwen wouldn't be surprised to see this at a posh wedding.

"Morgana and Gwaine have prepared a lovely two-tiered raw vegan dragonfruit cheesecake. Each tier is identical, adding a feeling of decadence that a single tier cheesecake would be unable to achieve. The crusts are a raw brownie base made of walnuts, dates, and cocoa, while the toppings are a mix of dragonfruit and raspberry that paint a beautiful fuchsia swirl of color through the pristine white cheesecake. The cheesecake itself is a blend of raw cashews and coconut cream, with a hint of lemon to brighten the flavors. They have finished their presentation with a generous helping of candied violets around the base and the outer edge of the cake. The final result is a glorious looking cheesecake that is sure to taste just as wonderful as it looks…" Gwen catches Morgana's wide smile from the corner of her eye and returns it, pleased to hear the high praise of her friend’s efforts. “...However, unfortunately, the dragonfruit cheesecake has broken the primary rule for the Great Bake-Off. The cake is entirely comprised of raw elements. At least some portion of each entry must be baked.”

Morgana’s smile doesn’t slip at all as she replies, “Well, I had no intentions of breaking my raw diet just to compete in a bake-off.” She truly seems as unconcerned as her words suggest. “And at least this way, I get to try one of the desserts.”

Everyone comments on this simultaneously, Gwen assumes all similar to her comment, “You haven’t tried any of the other cakes?”

Morgana shakes her head, then answers what Gwen thinks was Arthur’s question...apparently he took that thought to the next logical level: How are you judging the cakes? “Well, I could judge for myself whether the recipe was innovative or used unusual ingredients. For the consistency score, Gwaine described each cake and the sexier his description, the better the score. Then he’d kiss me, and I judged the flavor.”

Everyone laughs at her interesting approach to circumvent the conflict between her diet and today’s competition, then Merlin asks “Which cake has gotten the best score for consistency so far?” 

Gwen suddenly realizes that Merlin hasn't been able to try all of the cakes either. She feels terrible that it didn't even occur to her until this moment, but there really wouldn't have been anything she could do about it. She wonders how he was judging the ones he couldn't try, and thinks back through the tables to remember which were vegan. She feels better when she realizes that he's managed to taste all of the best cakes, and skip the ones that weren't as tasty.

Morgana’s smile turns a little sinister at the memory of her husband’s naughty cake descriptions. “Morgause’s cake.”

Arthur's scoff explodes from him as if unbidden, "Morgause's? We didn't even taste that one!"

Mithian simultaneously asks, "What was his description of hers?" 

Gwaine is the one who answers, lowering his voice to his deepest gravelly pitch, and saying in a sexy almost whisper, "Hot, hard, and ready on the outside. Warm and dripping wet on the inside."

Gwen realizes that she's fanning herself and glances guiltily at Lance, but he simply chuckles and pulls her hip tight against his in a promise of things to come. Of course, now she really needs to fan herself, but refrains. It wouldn't help anyway.

Arthur's response is once again loud and seems to have been said without any restraint or forethought. "Ugh, Gwaine! What have I told you about T.M.I. and my sister's love life?" Gwen notices that his face looks slightly flushed with embarrassment, and she finds it very endearing. "That being said," Arthur continues, "Geoffrey, I don't want my sister's cake to be disqualified just because she chose to make a raw cake to stick to her diet. Is it acceptable for us to all agree to modify the rules for the day?"

Geoffrey pauses in cutting and plating pieces of cheesecake to consider. After a moment of huffing and mumbling to himself, he replies, "Yes, yes, of course. If everyone agrees, I don't see why not."

Gwen is first to agree, "Yes, absolutely!" But everyone else joins in immediately to add their agreement.

Morgana is the one who gets the contest back on track, handing out slices of the cheesecake and then taking a bite of her own piece. 

It tastes phenomenal!

Gwen cannot believe that this is made from all vegan and raw ingredients. It is smooth and rich and wonderful...delectable. The tart raspberry and dragonfruit swirl through the sweet creamy cheesecake provides the perfect blend of sweetness and tartness. The crust tastes like a brownie, but has a crunch to it that perfectly offsets the silk of the cake. And the candied violets...well, they're like a forbidden fruit. Eating flowers has always felt like doing something wrong to Gwen, but they've never tasted all that great, so it felt wrong and sort of tasted wrong as well. But when they're candied, that changes everything! It feels like sneaking a treat from the cookie jar when your parents could walk in at any moment. In short, Gwen can't find a single fault with this cheesecake.

Looking around at the others, she can see that its reception is kind of hit or miss. Gwaine, Freya, Alice, Mithian, and Merlin seem to love it. Arthur, Leon, and Percy don't seem to care for it at all. Everyone else just looks thoughtful as they chew and write down scores. Gwen gives it perfect scores for all of the categories except dragon theme. If she didn't give Alice and Gaius a ten for using dragonfruit, she doesn't think it's fair to do so for Morgana and Gwaine. Looking back, she gives a six to be consistent.

She leans over to Lance and says, "That should be added to our menu as an occasional daily special too, if Morgana doesn't mind." 

Lance agrees, then, likely thinking about Morgana's method for judging, but too reserved to give a real kiss in such a public setting, he gives her a soft peck on the cheek before threading his fingers with hers and stepping toward their table to face judgement.

(Inspiration for Gwaine and Morgana's cake: https://choosingchia.com/vegan-drangon-fruit-cheesecake-bars/

https://bklynlocavore.com/2013/04/28/foraging-for-violets-candied-treats/) 

Gwen squeezes Lance's hand three times in quick succession, a silent "I. Love. You." message before their cake is judged. Sure, this is just for fun, and there's nothing really at stake, but she could tell - all weekend - that Lance was putting more into it than a simple competition amongst friends would warrant. He's definitely pinning his hopes on winning, and though she has told him - repeatedly throughout the weekend - that he has nothing to worry about, that he's sure to win, even she has to admit that the competition has been a lot stiffer than she ever would have suspected.

Trying to look at their cake from an unbiased perspective, she has to admit that it could use a bit more dragon in the decorations. They did a simple dragonscale pattern with frosting, like Merlin, but in three colors. However, Arthur’s topper added a dragon crest to Merlin’s simple decorations, possibly bringing his above what she and Lance did. And the cakes with sculpted dragons definitely do a better job of incorporating the dragon theme than theirs. Well, nothing they can do about it now.

Noel begins describing their cake. “Lance and Gwen have made a Game of Thrones inspired cake filled with fiery flavours. The cake is a dark chocolate sponge with dark chocolate chili ganache. The cake is frosted with a milk chocolate cinnamon swiss meringue buttercream sculpted into dragon scales, representing the three dragons that hatch for Danaerys Targaryen. One egg was a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks. Another was pale cream streaked with gold. The last was as black as midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and swirls. On top of the cake is black sanding sugar, representing the ash of all the things the dragons have burned along their way.”

Even though it pains her slightly to be inconsistent with her previous scoring, she gives their cake perfect scores across the board. Whatever. She figures everyone else probably did the same.

(Inspiration for Lance and Gwen’s cake:  
www.smartcookiebakes.com/2014/06/game-of-thrones-house-targaryen-cake.html)

Noel begins collecting everyone’s score cards, and Gwen can’t resist her natural tendency to organize…she begins collecting the papers from everyone around her and hands them all to Noel when he gets to their side of the group. Noel takes the cards to a table at the front of the room and begins tallying the scores. 

While they wait, Geoffrey finally reveals the secret rules that he mentioned at the beginning of their competition. "Today, we have two special rules, which will each add an additional fifty points to the total: first, for any cake bearing the words 'Happy Birthday Merlin' and second, for any vegan cake.”

Gwen had thought it would be sweet to add 'Happy Birthday Merlin' to their cake, but Lance had overruled her, not wanting to deviate from the Game of Thrones theme that they'd created. Of course, she'd never do anything that even hinted at an 'I told you so,' but Lance squeezes her hand in acknowledgement that he should have listened to her great idea. She squeezes back and gives him a reassuring 'we'll win anyway' smile.

It occurs to Gwen that Arthur had insider information, having set that rule, but then this is his birthday present to Merlin, so she doesn't really mind that he's stacked the deck slightly in their favor. 

Geoffrey goes on, “Just as we discovered that it is more fun if everyone judges, we also decided it is more enjoyable if we give multiple awards. We will therefore announce a winner for each of the five categories that you scored as well as an overall winner across all of the categories.”

It doesn't take nearly as long for Noel to tally the results as Gwen would have expected, and within minutes he and Geoffrey are ready to announce the winners. Gwen suspects that Geoffrey put them all in a trance with his monotonous voice, and caused their perception of time to be off kilter.

Noel begins, still standing behind the table at the front of the room, which now has six trophies on it. "Our first category is Best Decorated cake. Although there were many gorgeous cakes prepared today, there were definitely a couple that stood out from the rest. The winner for the most beautiful cake is the Sleepy Dragon Carrot Cake, made by Mithian and Leon." Gwen thinks that their cake definitely deserved the win for that category. Noel presents them with a golden trophy, about eight inches tall, that appears to be a golden piping bag on a pedestal. Mithian holds the trophy in the air in triumph and Leon wraps his arm around her waist, smiling down at her and paying exactly zero attention to the trophy. Everyone applauds and cheers, and there are quite a few cat calls. 

When the rooms quiets enough to be heard, Geoffrey continues. "The second category pertaining to appearance is the incorporation of today's theme: dragons. Once again, all of the teams did a splendid job. But only two teams went the extra step of sculpting a dragon to adorn their cake. Those two teams tied, with perfect scores for their dragons, but one of them managed to pull ahead by adding one of today's secret elements. The winner of the most adorable dragon category in today's competition is Toothless, from How to Train Your Dragon, by Freya and Percival." Again, applause, cheers and hoots from all around the room. Geoffrey hands over a second trophy, also golden, that is definitely a dragon atop a pedestal of similar size to the first trophy. Freya, with Percy at her side as escort, accepts the trophy with a shy smile on her face, but ducks her head in embarrassment at all of the attention and heads back to their table as quickly as possible. 

Gwen is absolutely thrilled that they give more than one award, because truthfully, both of those cakes deserved to win in the appearance categories. She's still hopeful that Lance will take home a prize in the taste categories though.

Noel picks back up with the awards announcements. "In the first category for taste, we have the consistency award. Although the flavor of this cake received mixed reviews, the silken texture of its two layers and contrasting sweet chocolatey crunch garnered high scores all around. The winner of the sexiest consistency award goes to Morgana and Gwaine's raw, vegan Dragonfruit and Raspberry Cheesecake." The golden trophy that Noel presents to Morgana has a whisk on top of the pedestal. "I think we'd all like to hear how you would describe the consistency of your cheesecake, Gwaine."

Gwaine laughs and then flips his hair back as he begins to consider. But Arthur interrupts, "No, absolutely not! I've had enough insight into my sister's love life for one day! Let's move on to the next category!"

Noel obliges. "Our second category for taste goes to the cake that uses the most unique ingredients. This cake tantalized our tongues with the rare and bold combinations of dark chocolate with chili, and milk chocolate with cinnamon." Lance's grip on her hand tightens as he realizes that he's won this award, but otherwise, he refrains from reacting until Noel finishes, "The most unique flavors award goes to Lance and Gwen!" 

She doesn't really feel that she should take any of the credit for Lance's cake, but he doesn't relinquish her hand as he walks to the front of the room to take the trophy - this one a golden chili on a pedestal. As they thank their friends for voting for their cake, Gwen is surprised to see that Lance doesn't look as happy as she expected him to be about winning one of the awards. 

They head back to their table and she notices that Lance still seems just as nervous as he did before he won the unique recipe award. She realizes what's worrying him only when she begins to worry about it herself: Lance clearly had his hopes pinned on winning either of the next two awards, best flavor or the best overall, and is worried that each cake can only win one category. 

Luckily, Noel doesn’t make them wait long, before he begins with the next award. “Several of the cakes today tasted amazing, and although we wish we could provide all of them with an award, only one can win. The cake that was voted best taste, with an almost perfect score, beat out the second best by only a few points. Lance and Gwen, your cake wins the best taste!!” 

At her side, Lance releases his held breath with a loud woosh, simultaneously releasing her hand, as well as his beautiful wide smile. She hangs back at their table, while he goes forward to accept a golden trophy with a golden slice of three-layer cake on top. He hurries back to their table, to take her in a tight embrace, lifting her from the ground and spinning her around once before pressing his lips to hers in a fierce kiss of relief. Apparently, regardless of who wins the best overall cake, Lance is content with the outcome...and so, of course, Gwen is content too. 


	22. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of the bake-off!

With each successive category announced that their cake doesn't win, Arthur gets more and more anxious. When Lance wins two in a row, his anxiety dissipates into disappointment. Sure, the bake-off was Merlin's birthday present, and Arthur knows that he is completely content with just having the experience, but Arthur had started to pin his hopes on winning. At least one of the awards. He sort of hoped that if Merlin won, he'd be so excited that he'd forgive Arthur for all of the mistakes he keeps making. 

Lance jogs back to Gwen and hugs her, spins her around, kisses her. Arthur looks away. It isn't that he's jealous, but watching other people give and receive affection so freely really highlights the dearth of affection in his life. His chest is a yawning black hole that feels like it could never be filled. He rubs it absently, wishing he knew how to have relationships, how to express feelings, how to just hug and spin and kiss someone as if those were simple actions. 

He's hardly listening to Noel. Lance is likely to win the overall category. Who else could beat the best flavor and most unique recipe cake? And it isn't really as if the only way Arthur can get Merlin to forgive him is if he wins. It just feels that way because it's the only way without actually having to dig deep and talk about his feelings...and his failings. But now, he realizes he's going to have to do just that to convince Merlin to forgive him, without the trophy.

"...almost managed to tie with Lance's cake on its own merits, but with the assist from his prat of a roommate - his words, not mine - Merlin's cake received an extra fifty points for having the 'Happy Birthday, Merlin' message. Congratulations!!"

Noel's words finally filter into his brain when Merlin excitedly jogs to the front of the room to receive his trophy: more than twice as tall as the others, gold, with a miniature rendition of a whole, three-tier cake on top. His smile consumes his face, perhaps even his whole body. It is brilliantly blinding, and Arthur thinks that he could stare at that smile for the rest of his life, and his eyes would never want for any other vision. Merlin hoists the trophy above his head with both hands, and Arthur is vaguely aware that everyone in the room, except for him, is cheering and clapping. He should be cheering and clapping, but he's been struck both dumb and blind by that smile. Merlin practically vibrates with his happiness, making waves that travel through the air and crash into Arthur and flow through him, leaving an echo of happiness in their wake. He is a desert. He doesn't think he can ever get enough of those waves.

And suddenly, Merlin is jogging back to their table, setting his trophy down, and wrapping his arms around Arthur. And...Oh God...It feels amazing to be hugged. It has been so long since he's been hugged anyway - except for that brief embrace from Morgana a few days ago - but to be hugged by Merlin, with all of that happiness radiating off him at such close proximity. Arthur stiffens from the absolute pleasure, from the amazing feeling of actually receiving a joyous, exuberant hug. He doesn't think he's ever felt a hug like this before. And he now understands how a drug can be instantly addictive. Can Merlin's hugs be his drug?

But just as suddenly as the hug started, Merlin drops his arms, and his smile, and backs off with a mumbled apology. Oh shit. Arthur was supposed to do something with his arms when Merlin hugged him, to give back instead of just taking, but he'd been so stunned, so self-absorbed, that he'd just stood there. And before he can even apologize, Kara is pushing past him with a glare to envelop Merlin in a congratulatory hug, while Mordred mumbles something that sounds decidedly like, "You really are a prat, aren't you?" The entire room has crowded in to hug Merlin with a chorus of "Congratulations!" and "Happy Birthday!" And Merlin's smile is back, but it isn't sending out waves anymore. And that's all Arthur's fault.

He won't let this fester, though. As soon as the congratulations are over, they'll be back in his car, alone, and he'll apologize. They'll clear everything up. Maybe he'll ask Merlin out for dinner, or better yet, just drive to a nice restaurant and take him out for dinner without having to ask, or giving him a chance to say no. Until then, Arthur just hangs back, observing, listening, letting Merlin enjoy his moment of glory. Arthur is surprised to find that he enjoys it too, hearing everyone's praise of Merlin. 

Gwen's squeal of excitement as she hugs Merlin, "Congratulations! You totally deserve that, your cake was amazing!" followed immediately by Lance's agreement, his eyes shining with pride and happiness for his friend.

Morgana's quiet comment accompanying her reserved Pendragon hug, "Ignore him. He's a moron." Who does Merlin need to ignore? Arthur feels an unfamiliar urge to hit someone rise in him and tamps it down, but he suspects that Morgana can only mean Mordred.

Gwaine's exuberant hug that Arthur wishes he could copy. So carefree. So demonstrative. Arthur could never be like that. Not even when he was a boy.

Merlin's uncle Gaius taking him in a long and heartfelt hug as he says, "I'm so proud of you, my boy." And Arthur can't help but feel that he means for much more than a cake bake-off. He also can't help wondering if anyone has ever said those words to him before, but if they have, he has absolutely no memory of it. And he's pretty sure he'd remember words that heartfelt and momentous.

Tristan's "It's been too long!" And Merlin's response of, "Why don't you two come for a weekend? I'm sure Arthur wouldn't mind, and there's certainly enough room in our flat." Arthur stops paying attention for a moment as his mind stutters over the words "our flat." He likes the sound of that way more than he thought he would. Because he's distracted, he is taken completely by surprise when Merlin turns to look at him for confirmation, so he doesn't manage an answer before Isolde draws Merlin's attention away again with a quick, "We'll visit when you're back at your uncle's." The bleakness of Arthur's future, when Merlin moves out of their flat, seems to press down on him, and only the hope of atoning for his hasty words earlier and apologizing for his unresponsiveness during Merlin's hug hold it at bay. He will apologize in the car. He will talk about feelings and Merlin will understand. They'll have dinner. It will be a date, even if it's unspoken. Things will be easy between them, back to how they were before Arthur messed things up with his emotional constipation.

Geoffrey and Noel have packaged the remaining cakes into small cardboard boxes, and everyone gets to take home another sample of each cake. Without a word, Arthur stacks his box on top of Merlin's, leaving Merlin's hands free to carry his trophy. He barely acknowledges the thanks and farewells of his friends as he anticipates the discussion on the ride home, planning and discarding several tactics to explain to Merlin all of his failings without driving him away. 

But as he waits by the door, he hears Noel's parting words to Merlin. "See you Friday night. Eight o'clock, yeah?"

Merlin's exuberant affirmative "Yeah, see you then." steals Arthur's joy. Seals his fate. 

He turns and walks outside immediately, no longer waiting for Merlin to finish talking to everyone, not worrying about holding the door for him or helping him load his trophy into the car. He puts the cake boxes in and climbs into the driver's seat. When Merlin finally comes out and climbs into the car, Arthur turns on the radio, loud enough that Merlin won't try talking, and focuses all of his attention on the road and his own misery. He should, perhaps, be happy for Merlin. By his own admission, Merlin has been in love with Noel for years, so the fact that Arthur inadvertently orchestrated a date between the two is a better birthday present than he ever could have achieved intentionally. But he isn't happy at all. No, he can't even find it in him to utter a single word on the drive. What is there to say? Merlin, his Merlin...isn't his after all.

He heads straight to his room when they arrive home, shutting the door behind him on all of the words that he still wants to say, even though they won't make a difference. 

But of course Merlin can't let the night end in silence. His words filtering through the door freeze Arthur in place, still just a step from the hallway. Merlin's quiet words come from close by, as if he's talking to the door. "Thank you, Arthur, for my wonderful birthday present." 

Arthur is tempted to respond, until he hears Merlin answer himself in his ridiculously deep faux Arthur tone. "You're welcome Merlin. I'm really glad you liked it." That's exactly what he was about to say.

Back to his own voice, "I didn't just like it, Arthur, I loved it!" He puts so much emphasis on the word loved that his voice actually cracks mid word. And Arthur's brain stutters on the word loved, but he knows that isn't how Merlin meant it. He has a date. On Friday. Not with Arthur. "But I didn't like…" His voice trails off, and Arthur strains to hear more than the silence. Almost imperceptible, there's a light tap and then a silky sliding sound. The slither of fingers on his door, perhaps? Then a quiet almost cough, certainly not a choked back sob, and maybe a sniffle. When he finally speaks again, Merlin's voice sounds loud by comparison, though he's talking quietly now, as if to himself. "...Oh never mind!" His bedroom door shuts rather harder than necessary.

As Arthur showers, soaks his icing stained shirt, brushes his teeth, and finally climbs into bed, he contemplates those noises. It almost sounded like Merlin was crying. Buy why would he be sad when he has a date with Noel Bloody Fielding on Friday? Why would he be sad when he won the top prize at his birthday cake competition? No, Arthur decides that he's simply projecting his own sadness onto Merlin's words. Merlin has everything he could ever want. Arthur is the one who missed out.

And that night, when sleep eludes him, he finally admits to himself that it is one hundred percent because his thoughts are focused on the man sleeping in his spare bedroom.


	23. Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and suicide.

Even though Arthur hardly slept all night, or perhaps because he didn't sleep, he leaves for work stupidly early the next morning. No one is in the office when he arrives. All of the lights are off and it is still pitch black outside, but the motion sensors on the executive floor turn lights on to illuminate the path to his office. He's certain they'll all turn off again before anyone else arrives.

He sends out a meeting notice to Morgana, Gwen, and Leon, setting it for 8 am. He wishes that he could set it even earlier, but he isn't sure they'd see it in time to arrive early, and he needs them all there. His army, such as it is, is small, but he doesn't dare bring anyone else into the battle. Too many people already heard Nimueh's accusations to hope that it will remain secret, but he refuses to add even a single person more until the truth has been uncovered. 

Until they arrive, he'll do what he can by himself. He takes a deep breath, formulating his plans, and for the first time all morning, his mind drifts to Merlin. He rubs the ache from his chest, and absently thinks that he's glad he's so busy that he doesn't have time to dwell on shattered hopes and dreams. Then he’s appalled that he was essentially just grateful that there’s a chance his father sexually abused a woman into committing suicide. The shock of that horrid thought is enough to focus him on his task.

He focuses back on his computer monitor, opening the browser. He doesn't even remember Nimueh's last name, if Elyan ever provided it, but Arthur is fairly good friends with Google. And Nimueh isn't exactly a common name. It doesn't take long for him to find her mother's obituary, and then he begins digging for every scrap of information available. He reads every page he can find about either mother or daughter, printing a copy of each, and adding them to a file folder. A little over an hour later, he has lots of meaningless knowledge about Nimueh and her mother, Rhiannon, but nothing of any use. 

He shoves his keyboard across the desk as he lets out a wordless growl of frustration and cards his fingers roughly through his hair, then pushes away from his desk and stands, walking over to the huge picture windows to look out at the twinkling lights in the darkness before dawn as the city begins to wake for Monday morning. He runs one hand through his hair, tugging just a bit more than necessary in the hope that he can force some better ideas to form. Reading Facebook and LinkedIn profiles, looking at Instagram posts...none of that is going to give him any insight into what may or may not have happened between two people who are no longer alive to provide the facts. 

As he watches the horizon fade achingly slowly from black into pre-dawn greyness, he allows his thoughts to drift to his flatmate. While wallowing in his own frustrations last night, he'd completely forgotten that he owed Merlin an apology for his thoughtless words to Mordred and Kara. If he's being honest with himself, he should probably also apologize for his silence on the drive home. In retrospect, he realizes that he just made things worse between them by doing that. He could have remained silent, lost in his own thoughts, but left the radio off to let Merlin prattle on about the bake-off, as he has a tendency to do. Maybe that was why Merlin sounded so sad when he was outside his door.

Arthur contemplates sending an email or a text, but that seems so impersonal. He needs to apologize face to face. 

Emails.

Texts.

That's what Arthur needs to look for to better understand what happened to Nimueh's mother! He knows that the company has a policy to save backups of all communications for seven years - they were audited a few years ago to ensure their files were retained for court cases - so he should be able to run a few searches and see whether his father and Rhiannon ever even communicated with one another directly.

Energized by these thoughts, he pulls the keyboard back to the edge of the desk, grabs his mouse and begins to search. 

It doesn't take him long to realize that he has no idea how to access old emails that weren't directly sent to or received by his own account, and he quickly confirms that there isn't a single email with Rhiannon's name on it in his history.

Frustrated, he puts his elbows on the desk and rests his face in his hands. Right now, he can really understand what people are referring to when they say emotional rollercoaster, but he decides that the past 24 hours has been more like an emotional bungee jump. 

He glances at the clock at the bottom corner of his computer monitor. Almost five a.m. It will be a while yet before his "army" even arrives, and what the hell are a CFO, and the VPs of Sales and Human Resources going to do that he hasn't already tried? Leon might be slightly more tech savvy than he is, but he doesn't think so. And Morgana and Gwen are both slightly less. What he needs is someone from I.T. 

Even though he doesn't want anyone else assisting in the investigation, he realizes that he can surely ask someone to do a few things without giving away what he's looking for, and maybe, just maybe, there's someone in that department who likes to arrive early. He dials.

A bloke with an Irish accent answers. "Hello. I.T. Have you tried turning it off and on again?"

The question throws him for a loop. How would that help in his situation? "Umm. What? No."

"Ok, d'you have a laptop or a desktop? Is there a flat black rectangle thing on your desk, or a tall black rectangle thing on the floor next to your desk?"

"What? I ummm...I have a laptop. But…"

"Ok, we'll go straight to the hard reboot. Press and hold the glowing…"

Arthur has reached his limit. "Stop!" He interrupts. "I'm not a bloody moron! Do you treat everyone this way? God man, you didn't even ask what the problem was before you just started in. What's your name? Do you know who I am?"

"Uhh, I'm Gilli." Arthur absently notices that the Irish accent has just dropped away with the introduction.

"And I'm Arthur Pendragon." His voice is layered with more pride and self-importance than he ever uses, but seriously? This guy deserves it!

"Uhh, nice to meet you, Arthur."

Arthur can tell that this half-wit has no idea who he is. "CEO of Camelot."

"C.E. ...Ohhhh. Good morning, sir. How can I help you?" Thank God, the git is finally speaking sensibly.

"As I'm sure you're aware, my father died earlier this year." Arthur doesn't pause to listen to Gilli's stammered condolences. "I'd like for you to set up a login so that I can access his emails."

"Uhh, sir? Didn't we already set his account so that all incoming emails are automatically forwarded to your assistant?"

"Yes, yes, I believe that's working fine. George forwards important incoming messages to me, but I need access to his email history." Honestly, Arthur can't believe that it hasn't occurred to him to do this before now. He could have looked back at discussions about mergers and take-overs, which would have really helped during the whole Essitir debacle in May.

"Yessir, I can set that up for you. Would you rather have a second laptop with your father's login, giving you access to his email account as well as his personal backup folders? Or just log in to his email account on your own laptop, and have to log in and out of your own account to access it?"

"A second laptop sounds perfect. Thank you, Gilli. How quickly can you have it up to my office?"

"Ohh, umm, your office? Sir? Umm, twenty minutes."

"That will be great. Thank you Gilli."

Arthur stands, stretches, and decides to use the break to make a cup of tea. When he opens his door, he is surprised to see George walking down the hall towards him with two paper to-go cups and a white paper bag. "Good morning, Mr. Pendragon, Sir."

"Good morning George, please call me Arthur."

"Yes sir. I've brought you coffee and breakfast, sir."

Arthur can't help glancing at the clock across the room. "George, I know that I'm often in early and leave late, but it's barely past five a.m. How did you know I'd be in, and think to bring me breakfast and coffee?" Maybe it's because he's been thinking about Merlin all morning that It occurs to him that he's being sort of prat-like, so he adds, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, this is a god-send today!"

George doesn't actually smile at that last statement, but Arthur can feel the pleasure and pride radiating off him and he wonders if he's ever complimented the man before. "I had the I.T. department coordinate with Security to send me a text notification whenever your company ID is used to open the front doors. You signed the approval for it months ago, sir." This last bit is added quickly, as though George isn't sure whether he's about to get chewed out for the invasion of privacy that Arthur so clearly has no recollection of…and he thinks that perhaps he didn't even pay attention to what he was signing at the time. "Any time you arrive early, I leave home as soon as I get the text, and bring breakfast and coffee. Well, normally, I do. But today, I slept through the notification." George looks at Arthur almost accusingly, as if it's his fault that George didn't wake up at three a.m. to bring him breakfast.

"This is perfect timing." He notes that the bag and cup have the Albion logo on them and his anticipation increases as he takes one of the cups. "What did you bring today?"

"Well, the barista - Elena?" He says this like Arthur should know her, and after a beat he nods because he does remember her. "Informed me that you've turned vegan." Again the accusing look, this time saying that he can't believe that Arthur would make such a major life change without informing him. "She recommended the vegan cappuccino and the vegan biscuits and gravy."

"Mmmm, that's perfect!" Arthur's stomach rumbles at the prospect of food, and he realizes that he skipped dinner yesterday...and possibly lunch as well, if tons of cake can't be counted. "Thank you, George."

George looks surprised by his thanks, but quickly responds, "My pleasure, sir."

As Arthur takes the bag and drink back into his office, he calls, "Call me Arthur. Oh, and Gilli from I.T. is going to bring a new laptop in a few minutes. Please let him in immediately."

"Yes, Mr. Pendragon."

Arthur sighs, wondering if there's any point trying to count the number of times that he's asked George not to call him Mr. Pendragon. That name belongs to his father, not to him. But other than that, and being extremely proper and, well, boring, George really is a great assistant. He hasn't ever really given it much thought before, just sort of taken his assistance for granted. But now, he finds himself wondering if other assistants would do the things that George does. Over the past several months of working long hours, Arthur was never interrupted from his concentration, but would simply look up at some point to find a meal sitting beside him on his desk. Multiple times per day. Every day. Including the weekends. It never even occurred to Arthur to thank George, or to question whether he was buying Arthur's meals through an expense account or on his own. Merlin would surely berate him for that behavior.

A knock on the door interrupts his musings, followed quickly by the entrance of a fellow with messy brown hair wearing ill-fitting blue jeans and a t-shirt adorned with a twenty sided die - Arthur knows what that is now, thanks to Tristan and Isolde's cake - that says "How do you want to do this?" He has a laptop slung carelessly under one arm and a rolled up power cord clutched in the same hand. 

Arthur thinks that a few weeks ago, he would have been appalled to know that any of his employees came to work in such casual clothing, but today, all he can think is that Merlin would probably become fast friends with this Gilli fellow.

He looks nervous to be on the executive floor, so Arthur breaks the silence. "Come in, Gilli. Do you always work such early hours?"

"Uhh, yes, yessir. I have to work early so I can get home to take care of my da in the afternoons." 

Arthur can tell that Gilli would rather be anywhere but here, so he changes the subject to Gilli's comfortable territory. "So, how do I log in?" Gilli tells him the login information, shows him the network drive where Uther's personal backups are stored, and then lets himself out.

Arthur takes a sip of cappuccino and a bite of the biscuits, then begins searching through emails and files.


	24. Arthur

A meeting reminder pop-up on his computer interrupts Arthur's concentration. He has no idea how long he's been at it, other than the passing notice that his cup is empty, only a single bite of biscuit remains, and his eyes feel gritty like he hasn't blinked in hours. 

He stands, stretches, and then heads to his favorite of the executive meeting rooms. 

Although all of the conference rooms on the top three floors of the building have at least one solid wall of windows, this particular room was built to impress with a capital I. The room is the skyscraper equivalent to a rounded bay window in a house, or a turret on a castle, which is to say that it is a round room that extends beyond all of the other walls of the building, so that it has three hundred degrees of floor to ceiling windows, with the final sixty degrees of the circle attached to the building. Arthur has always loved the view of the entire city from the room, it feels like he can see the whole world. But even more than the view, he loves the polished wooden table that sits perfectly in the center of the room. He has always felt that meetings at this table result in better discussion, collaboration, or, to use a ridiculous business buzz-word...synergy.

Without having been asked, George quietly delivers a tray with two carafes, an assortment of tea bags, mugs adorned with the Camelot logo, sweeteners, and a pitcher of cream. Arthur fixes a mug of tea with a splash of cream and then stares unseeing out the windows while he waits. He doesn't have to wait long before he is joined by his small army. 

Once they've settled, he tells them the steps he's already taken this morning, placing file folders brimming with printed emails and web articles on the table, and finishing with the disturbing results. "I'd hoped to find that my father had never had any contact at all with Nimueh's mother."

Morgana interrupts him at this point to agree, "That certainly would have been the best outcome, the simplest proof that Father wasn't to blame."

Arthur nods grimly. "Exactly. Unfortunately, as the software lead on her project, she regularly exchanged emails and even texts with him to report on progress or ask for direction. I've begun reading each of the exchanges, but there are too many to expect that I'll get through them all in a reasonable timeframe. Plus, every minute that I spend on this is time that something else is falling to the wayside."

Gwen chimes in. "Maybe we should form a team from our law division to review the emails?"

"No! I don't want to bring anyone else in on this investigation until we're certain that Nimueh's accusations are valid. If more people know, rumors are more likely, and once this gets out, there will be no convincing the world that they were false." Arthur's refusal is met with an emphatic nod from Morgana and slightly slower agreement from Gwen and Leon. 

Leon's thoughtful expression as he flips through the information Arthur printed this morning gives Arthur hope that he's come up with a brilliant solution, but instead he simply asks a series of questions. "How many email exchanges have you already reviewed?"

"Dozens."

"All of them between your father and Rhiannon alone? No one else copied or included in the discussion?"

"No, if there was anyone else on the email, I skipped it."

"And was there any hint at all of impropriety or familiarity in any of them?"

"Not in any that I've read."

"Did you start with the most recent and work backwards?"

"Yes." Arthur is losing his patience, but does his best to reign his annoyance in as he says, "please tell me that all of these questions are going to lead to an epiphany."

Leon looks apologetic, which isn't what Arthur hoped to see. "I don't know about an epiphany, Arthur. But, if you've read dozens of emails between your father and this woman, and none of them have held even a hint of impropriety, I think it's safe to assume that we don't need to continue reading their emails."

Arthur is ready to explode with frustration, but he takes a steadying sip of his tea and calmly replies, "I've got to do something to prove my father's innocence, Leon!"

"Right." Leon scratches his beard, a sign of the frustration that he typically holds as tightly leashed as Arthur does his own. "I was just thinking that we should get access to HER email account. Just because Nimueh believes your father was at fault doesn't mean she's right. Maybe there was something else going on."

Arthur had thought about getting access to her account, but it hadn't really occurred to him that she could have been having issues with someone other than his father. He'd been laser focused only on that singular possibility. "I'd considered getting access to her account, but didn't want to make anyone suspicious about what I was looking into. How do I request that access from I.T. without the risk of rumors?"

Gwen interjects excitedly. "I can request access to bunches of accounts randomly. Maybe ten percent of our total staff. Call it a routine Human Resources audit of email usage. Rumors about that will just stop people from misusing their email accounts for a while."

Morgana is nodding thoughtfully. "That's a great idea. It should increase productivity, though there will be a hit to morale as a result. It will feel more like Father's totalitarian management style. We should implement a benefit to offset it once word gets out."

"I was telling Mithian," Leon smiles fondly as his mouth says her name, and his eyes go a bit dreamy, "about an idea I had, to put Keurig machines in all of the break rooms with several gourmet tea and coffee options plus flavored creamers. She's considering doing that over at Nemeth now. Maybe we should do it here at Camelot too?"

"Dammit Leon," Arthur practically growls, "you've got to tell us your ideas first, before giving them to Mithian, regardless of whether you two are dating!" His clap on Leon's shoulder and genuine joy in his friend's happiness take the sting out of his words, but really, he means them. "If my Chief Financial Officer thinks the cost will be worth the increase in morale, I think it's a great idea."

"I'll look into the cost," Morgana agrees, "but I don't like the waste those machines create. If we're implementing something like that here, I will find an environmentally friendly option that works just as well. Same with the creamers; those little plastic packages are more waste than cream." 

Arthur agrees then turns his attention back to Gwen, "How quickly can you put together a list and get the I.T. department to follow through?"

"I'll give them the list within the hour and ask for access by the end of the day. Tell them that the turn-around time is imperative to ensure that people don't hear about it and delete emails to cover their tracks."

"Perfect. Assign a few interns to skim through all of the accounts and note, by reading the subject line only, how many emails they find that are work related versus non-work related. Maybe you can set up a form for them to fill in about each account. We can get metrics on email usage while we're at it."

There's a swift knock in the door before Gwen can reply, and George pokes his head around the heavy wooden door."I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Pendragon, but there is a couple here who says that you instructed them to meet with you today, only there's nothing about it in your calendar."

"A couple?" Arthur has no idea what George is talking about.

"Yes, sir, the gentleman says that his name is Elyan Thompson. I didn't get the lady's name. I would have sent them away, only he mentioned that his sister is the Vice President of our Human Resources department," he inclines his head toward Gwen, "and that you and he are friends."

"Oh, yes, yes, absolutely. I did ask them to come today." Arthur glances at the time, they've been in here for over two hours already. "Have Albion send over an assortment of sandwiches. I'm afraid we're going to be here for a while."


	25. Arthur

It has been dark for hours when Arthur finally opens the door to his flat. His mind is a jumble, and he has been clutching to one single image, as if it is a root at the edge of a precipice, keeping him from falling: walking in to see Merlin singing his ridiculous eighties tunes and cooking some crazy vegan dish, making their flat cheerful and homey.

The flat is dark. Cold. Empty.

Without even intending to do so, Arthur finds himself rushing to the door to Merlin's room, checking to be sure that he hasn't moved out. He hasn't. Thank God.

School. Merlin takes evening classes. He's never home at this time of night during the week. Just knowing that Merlin will be home in a few hours calms Arthur from his momentary panic. When did Merlin's presence become necessary to his sanity? Arthur can't pinpoint any specific moment, but rationalizes that today was a day to test anyone's sanity. It's only natural for him to crave company after a day like today… quite possibly the most emotional since his father died, and there have certainly been some doozies since then.

As he heads into his own room across the hall, shedding his suit jacket into the armchair beside his bed, his mind drifts back through the day. He can't believe how few details Nimueh had to back up her accusations. Had he known initially that she had nothing but vague speculations, he likely would have just ignored her. But now that the ball is rolling, he wants to know. Was her mother merely succumbing to mental illness and Nim grasping at reasons where none existed? Or did something happen at Camelot that caused her descent? If the latter, Arthur wants to root it out and correct it, regardless of whether the fault was his father's or someone else's.

He yawns, involuntarily stretching so hard that he feels crackles in his back and hips from too much sitting today, and he is reminded that he's been running on way too little sleep for two days back to back. He climbs on his bed, toes off his shoes, intending only to rest until Merlin gets home so that he can apologize, and falls fast asleep on top of the covers, still in his dress shirt and suit pants.


	26. Arthur

Despite Gwen's proposed timeline, they don't receive access to all of the email accounts until late Thursday evening. Even so, Arthur's week has consisted of ridiculously early mornings, exhaustingly late nights, and a miserable dearth of Merlin. It has seemed an odd parallel to Merlin’s first week in the flat, except that then Arthur didn't know what he was missing when their schedules were aligned so perfectly opposite one another.

Friday morning dawns depressingly early, yet again, and Arthur knows that his day will...finally... be consumed by the task of sifting through Rhiannon's emails in search of a cause for her despair. He isn't looking forward to the task, and therefore, for a moment, as he is pulling on his business clothes like a suit of armor to protect him through his day, his thoughts fly to the evening. Maybe he can finish early and come home to find Merlin preparing a nice dinner like he has the past few Friday nights.

Oh.

Friday night.

Eight o'clock.

Merlin has a date.

Arthur resolves to stay at the office until at least eight thirty. He doesn't think he can stand to see Merlin, flitting around the house in a chipper mood as he gets ready for his date.

As it turns out, he needn't have bothered with that resolution. Only a few hours into his investigation of Rhiannon's emails, he finds the smoking gun, so to speak. The rest of the day is consumed by a chaos of activity: obtaining access to additional email accounts, documenting all of the impropriety, coordinating with the Legal department, firing the COO of the company by having him removed from the premises in handcuffs. 

Yeah, that might not have been the wisest course of action for the company's bottom line, but Arthur couldn't care less. That filthy pig needed to be removed before he exhaled one more slimy breath in the direction of any of the women in this building. Arthur still can't believe that the Chief fucking Operating Officer of the company...the direct manager over the engineering staff...was using his position to press for affairs with not just Rhiannon but several of the female staff. Arthur had thought their company was so forward thinking, having so many more women engineers than other companies. Today's revelations had shattered that bubble. That snake had hired women for his own disgusting reasons, rather than to lift up deserving and intelligent female pioneers in the STEM fields.

But he's gone now.

Arthur wants to give Nimueh a freaking medal for bringing this to his attention. But that thought makes him wonder...how would his father have handled the situation if he'd known. Did he know? No. Arthur is certain that his father wouldn't have let that continue right under his nose. Right? He doesn't have the emotional stamina to continue that line of thought tonight. Or maybe ever. Arthur handled it the way it needed to be handled. And if anyone disagrees with his approach, he'll deal with that next week. 

The offices outside Arthur's door are all dark. Everyone else has already left for the weekend. Hours ago. He should do the same. But he doesn't want to leave on such negative thoughts. He rooted out an evil from the company that needed to be removed. The wounds can begin to heal now, and Camelot will be a better place for it. But it still feels unfinished to him. Like he's done the battle but not brought in the healers. 

He stares out at the city below him, pondering that thought. What does Camelot need to begin the healing process?

Suddenly, inspiration hits him, and he feels like an idiot that it has taken so long to think of it. He types up an email that helps to lift his spirits considerably, helps him begin to heal, and he's certain will help the company as well.

When he hits send, even though he's feeling better than he has all day, he doesn't think he can face his empty flat. Despite the events of the day, Leon had to leave hours ago to get ready to play at Albion Coffee House with Percy and the Knights again, and even though Arthur really isn't in the mood to hear a band or be social right now, almost anything sounds better than going home and dwelling on why Merlin isn't there with him.

He steps into the private bath attached to his office, scrubs his face in warm water, and runs his wet hands through his hair. He looks at himself in the mirror, thinking that, even with his hair mussed, he looks way too uptight to go out to hear live music. He takes off his coat and tie, unbuttons the top button of his maroon silk shirt, and rolls up the sleeves. Good enough. Anyway, that's as good as it's going to get, because he refuses to go home first.

The first thing he notices when he walks into the coffee house is Merlin sitting at the table closest to the band, looking adorable as he sings along with Percy. The second thing he notices is Noel, hair spiky and makeup painted on thick for a night out, sitting next to Merlin tapping his foot along to the music, then leaning over to speak into Merlin's ear. It honestly hadn't occurred to Arthur that they'd come here on their date, and he stalls in the doorway, contemplating heading somewhere else until Gwen waves him over to a table near the back where several of their friends, plus his sister, are sitting.

He hugs the edges of the room to make his way to their table without chancing having Merlin see him, then pulls an empty chair from a line along the back wall to the table. Almost as soon as he sits, Elena pops over to take his order. Did she really just trip over her own feet on her way over here?

"I'll have a Guinness." Just before she walks away, he glances toward Merlin and stops her, "Actually, make it an Albion martini." 

Gwen looks at him with concern shining in her eyes. "You alright, Arthur?" Of course she would notice that he just ordered liquor instead of sticking with beer. His eyes find Merlin - and Noel - again. He didn't realize that Gwen had picked up on his feelings, but she is very perceptive. She's also discrete, so he doesn't let it bother him. 

He simply replies, "Yeah, fine."

She puts her hand on his, where it's resting on the table and threads her fingers between his. "It's not every day that you have to arrest your own uncle, Arthur. It's ok to be upset."

Shit. How had he put all of the events of the day so thoroughly out of his head that he was able to single-mindedly wallow in his misery over Merlin being on a date? He answers her with more honesty this time. "I wish that I could sever blood ties as easily as having him removed from the company." Then, deciding to spoil Monday morning's surprise, he mentions the email. "Listen, Gwen, Morgana, I sent an email before I left the office. I have no doubt that there will be unanimous agreement on the board and with the investors. Regardless, my controlling share of the company is sufficient to ensure it will happen. I want Leon promoted to replace Agravaine as COO, effective immediately." 

It's the first time he's said his uncle's name aloud all day, and the name tastes bitter in his mouth. Luckily, Elena has just set his drink in front of him. The mix of dark rum, Guinness, cream de cocoa, and Albion’s special roast espresso hits his tongue in an explosion of sweetness that rinses away the bitterness. He continues, "I'm also proposing that we add a new position to the board, responsible for ensuring that atrocities like what we uncovered today are never repeated."

"Not a bad idea, little brother. Who do you propose for the position?" Morgana is leaning on Gwen to be close enough for the three of them to hold this conversation, so he doesn't think either of them notice as his gaze flicks to Gwen.

"I'd like to add a Chief of Human Resources on the board." He raises an eyebrow at Gwen, his smile growing wide as she realizes his meaning.

"What? Me? On the Board of Directors of Camelot?" Gwen's eyes are glistening for another reason now. "Are you just having a laugh with me, Arthur Pendragon?"

"Never!" But he gives lie to the word by doing just that. He can't help the laugh, at the expression on her face. Morgana, for her part, is smiling with approval at his suggestion, and wraps her arms around her best friend in a congratulatory hug. "You're the most compassionate and observant person I've ever met, Gwen, and I know that Camelot's employees will be safe in your hands."

Tears finally do spill onto her cheeks at that, and she throws herself forward to embrace Arthur, pulling Morgana along with her to form a hug sandwich with herself in the center. "You won't regret it, Arthur!" Before he can answer, she pulls back, her mouth opening to form a small O. "Does Leon know yet?"

Arthur looks at the front of the room, intending to look at Leon, but instead seeing only Merlin and Noel. The smile falls from his face, and he takes a long pull from his martini, finishing it off and signaling Elena to bring another before he answers. "Not yet. I figured we'd surprise him on Monday. Don't want him to get scared off and jump ship before we can promote him."

"As if!" Gwen laughs, as he'd hoped she would, but it doesn't raise his spirits or erase the vision of Merlin - his Merlin - out on a date with someone else. 

Maybe telling Gwen the final part of his email will pull him back out of his mood. "There's one more item in the email, that I'd like to have you do first thing Monday morning."

"Sure. What's it?"

"I'd like you to give George a raise. He really deserves one." 

Morgana's laugh stops him from saying more. She's laughing from her belly, that full throated, unconstrained laugh that he's always loved so dearly, except when it's aimed at him. "Oh baby brother. We wondered how long it would be before you thought of it." She gasps for breath, still continuing to laugh. "That man is an absolute saint to put up with you! We give him a substantial raise every six months that he stays on as your assistant, plus bonuses every time he helps pull you through a crisis. Believe me, at this rate, if he can stand you for another two years, he'll be one of the best paid employees at Camelot!" 

Arthur doesn't know whether to be glad that George is getting paid what he deserves or offended at his sister's implications that he's difficult to work for. Definitely the latter wins out, and he drinks another long gulp of his newest martini. 

Morgana's laughter has apparently finally drawn Gwaine's attention away from the band to their conversation, and he leans in to say. "Don't be too hard on him, love, he's finally coming around. I've seen glimpses of my good friend Arthur the past few weeks. Don't scare him back into hiding!" Then to Arthur, he lifts his pint, "Cheers, Princess."

Again, Arthur feels slighted, but really, Gwaine never intends to offend, especially when he uses his old college nickname for Arthur, so he tries to take the words at face value. He raises his martini glass in response and drains the second one. He hasn't let himself drink more than two since the weekend after his father died. Another glance at Merlin, though, and he decides that he really wants another tonight. The beauty of the Albion martini, he thinks as he orders a third, is that the caffeine offsets the alcohol so that you don't end up as drunk.

Several songs - and drinks - later, Arthur finds himself dancing in front of the stage with Gwen, Morgana, Mithian, and Freya surrounding him. Vivian, one of Arthur's exes, is dancing in front of him, grinding backwards into him in time with the music. Merlin, on the other side of Freya, is also dancing and singing along, but isn't nearly so exuberant as Arthur and his posse of ladies. Through his drunken dancing haze, Arthur notices that Merlin is periodically glancing over at him with a look of concerned melancholy. Why is he focused on Arthur instead of on his date?

Arthur looks around for Noel and finds him standing behind a lovely dark haired woman who is almost of a height with him, his arms wrapped around her, swaying to the music as he nuzzles her neck.

Arthur literally sees red. He always thought that was just a saying, but he's seeing it now...and then he realizes that one of the stage lights is catching his peripheral vision. But that was just the diversion he needed to keep him from stalking over to punch Noel in his smug, too large face.

He grabs Gwen, exaggeratedly pointing at Noel in his intoxicated state and demands, "Who's that woman?" 

Gwen follows his finger with her gaze. "Who? Noel's partner? Her name is Lliana. Why?"

"Why's he dancing with her 'stead of Merlin?"

"What? Merlin? Noel and Lliana have been together for almost ten years. She's lovely. He introduced her before the show started. Why would he be dancing with Merlin?" Gwen looks at him, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Are you ok, Arthur?"

"M gunna be sick." The bathroom is across the room, with tons of people in the way, so Arthur stumbles out the front door, with Gwen helping him stay on his feet. The fresh air hits him and helps clear his head for a moment, but then he lunges for the bin beside the door and empties his stomach. When he stands up, he's horrified to find that several of his friends, Merlin included, have followed them out. Someone hands him a cup of water as he turns away from them, calling over his shoulder, "M gun’ head home. G'night."

Vivian tries to grab his arm and go with him, but he shrugs her off, probably sounding much too rude as he practically shouts, "No, Vivian, we broke up. Remember?" He'd like to have been more eloquent than that. He's always found her to be beautiful, and he knows that she's more than just the spoiled brat that she shows to the world, but right now? He just can't.

He's sloshed. Totally. He knows that he can't drive, but figures he can handle ordering an uber. Maybe.

But behind him, as he walks away, he hears Merlin say, "Don't worry. I'll get him home safely. Goodnight!" And lots of echoing "Goodnights" mixed in with a few concerned, "thank yous." 

It's been a long time since Arthur has been the one who drank so much that he needed a caretaker, and it grates on him that he let himself get to this state tonight. He therefore instinctively refuses the offer of help."M fine. You cin stay. I'll uber."

Merlin had just caught up to him, and Arthur sees him finch as if his words injured him. "No, it's ok. I was ready to leave anyway."

Arthur turns his head to look at Merlin. Even in his drunken state, he can see that Merlin is looking very depressed. "M sorry," Arthur says, or tries to say, but he thinks it just comes out as a jumble of syllables. He was intending his apology to be about making Merlin take him home tonight, but then remembers that he owes Merlin several apologies that he's currently in no state to give. 

And then he trips. Merlin manages to grab him in time to keep him from face planting on the sidewalk, and tosses one of Arthur's arms over his shoulders to steady him as they walk. "Mmm, s'nice." He doesn't think those words came out either, but he rests his head on Merlin's shoulder, then discovers that Merlin smells nice. Like vanilla and earl grey tea. "Hot. Engage." He accidentally says out loud.

Merlin chuckles. "Unlike one of us, I'm sober tonight. Do you want me to drive us home in your car so you don't have to come back for it this weekend?"

"You cin drive? I din't know you were old nuff." Arthur swings his free arm around to lick his finger and stick it in Merlin's ear as they walk.

"What the hell, Arthur! Why'd you do that?" Merlin yells and swats Arthur's hand away, but he's laughing again. 

"Like it when ya' laugh. Yer smile." Arthur tries to say, but he isn't sure whether Merlin understood him. That's ok. He's going to tell him tomorrow. He'll say all the words. 

Merlin stops walking, shrugs out from under Arthur's arm, and turns to face him. "So, uber? Or your car?" 

Arthur doesn't like the lack of touching, so he digs his keys out of his pocket, hands them to Merlin, then throws his arm back over Merlin's shoulders. "This way." He shouts, pointing as he spins their bodies back towards the coffee house, takes two steps, then turns back around. "No, this way. M’ car." 

"Right...back towards your office. Yeah?" Arthur nods and loses his balance from the motion, catching himself by placing more of his weight on Merlin. Merlin adjusts their direction again, and Arthur can see the Camelot skyscraper looming up ahead.

They walk the rest of the way like that - a couple blocks, plus the elevator into the car park, and then through the deserted parking garage - with Arthur leaning heavily on Merlin.

As Merlin helps Arthur fold into the passenger seat, Arthur demands, "D'you listen tah anything 'cept '80's stuff?"

Merlin laughs and walks around to the driver's side, answering once he's in his own seat. "Course I do. I mostly only listen to 80's songs while I cook. It reminds me of my mum and my best friend, Will. The three of us used to cook together all the time."

Arthur doesn't really like that Merlin calls someone else his best friend. He'd like to be Merlin's best friend. He drops his head back to the headrest, and rolls his head to look at Merlin. "Play me yer fav'rit song."

Merlin holds his gaze for what feels like several minutes, then pairs his phone with the Bluetooth in Arthur's car. The song he turns on isn't at all what Arthur expected. It isn't anything like eighties music. It's simple. And kind of sweet. Very sweet. Arthur finds himself focusing on the words, and it might just be the haze of drunkenness and desire that he's currently in, but the song makes him think of Merlin. Or of their friendship, anyway.

"I'm not really sure how this pans out   
in the real world   
But in my head, everything's going perfectly.  
And even though I'm not quite sure how,   
you've taught me to love the world   
And be daring, and now life's exciting"

Things might not be going perfectly right now, not even in his head, but he's going to fix that tomorrow. And Merlin really is teaching him to love the world again.

"But I am so confused,   
one day I'll be solidly in love with you   
And then the next   
I'm not sure you even care for me at all"

That definitely describes the past week of thinking that Merlin was going out with Noel. Though Arthur isn't sure he'd describe what he's feeling as love. Right? Surely not. 

"It's something I can't see,   
how on earth could a galaxy   
Like you think anything of a tiny star like me?  
But in the end I don't really care what you think   
Cause the bottom line is you make me happier than I've ever been,   
Oh I've ever been   
And after all   
why would you do all the nice things that you do   
If you didn't really mean them   
from the bottom of your heart   
So it's all good, yeah it's all good"

Merlin does make him happier than he's ever been. "Y’ do nice things fer me." Merlin glances over at him, then back at the road. Uh oh, did he say that out loud?

"Is there any way I can help you out,   
cause I can't think of a way   
To repay you for all the good you've done for me   
I'll write you a song or we can just hang out,   
I'll hold your hand or tell you the joke   
that always gets you laughing   
And when I see you smile,   
everything becomes worth while  
And I forget about my worries, yeah, they just fade into the blue" 

"Mmm, love yer smile." Arthur pushes the lever to lean his seat back, and closes his eyes, picturing Merlin's smile when he won the bake-off. "Yeah. Worth while."

Merlin exhales a laugh. "What's that, Mr. Mumbles? Are you actually trying to talk, or just muttering to yourself like a senile old drunkard?"

"I think you're my best friend"

“M’ not senile or old, you pirl’s getticoat!” Arthur loves when they call each other names.

"I think you're my best friend"

“What was that? If I’m a pirl’s getticoat, then you, my friend, are a plot-cole!” Merlin is struggling not to laugh, and Arthur can’t stand it. He wants to see that smile explode into a full fledged laugh, and he wants to be the one to make it happen. 

"I think you're my best friend"

He wants.   
So much want.

"I think you're my best friend"

Didn't the song already say that?

"I think you're my best friend  
I think you're my best friend  
I think you're my best friend"

Arthur listens to the line repeat several times before he’s certain that it isn’t just his drunken brain emphasizing the words that make the song even more representative of his feelings for Merlin. Best friend. Yeah. Is that what they’re calling it these days when you can’t think about anything other than your flatmate? 

Only if you’re lying to yourself about it.

When the phrase keeps repeating, he laughs, then struggles to make words form on his lips so Merlin will actually hear them. “Lad’ doth protest too much, m’think.”

“Did you just drunkenly quote Hamlet?” Merlin cracks up, and Arthur is pleased beyond reason to have managed to make him laugh. “Let’s get you to bed, sir Hollop-dead.”

Bed? Arthur is surprised to find that they’re back at their flat, sitting in the parked car. Merlin stares at him for several minutes, or maybe he stares at Merlin for several minutes. Or wait, it can’t be one without the other, they’re both staring. Arthur wonders if that means that Merlin is thinking the same things he is. Bed. Kissing. Cuddling. His eyes flick to Merlin’s lips just in time to see his tongue dart out and moisten them. Arthur leans toward him, ready to take the chance and just kiss him, hoping that his foggy brain is reading the signals right. But Merlin breaks their eye contact and turns to open his door. 

He comes around the car, opens Arthur’s door, and begins prattling about pointless things. “Thanks for letting me drive, Arthur. Never in a million years did I think I’d drive a Lotus!” 

Arthur doesn’t want to talk about pointless things. He wants to talk about feelings. He never wants to talk about feelings, except for right now, and instead, he gets prattle. Arthur smiles. Prattle. Prat. “Yer the prat in this ‘lationsh’p, Merls.”

Merlin frowns at him then pulls him up out of the car. “Let’s get inside.” 

He didn’t mean to make him frown. He wants him to smile. Always. He pokes his fingers into the sides of Merlin’s mouth to push his lips into a smile. It doesn’t work. But Arthur likes the feel of Merlin's lips under his fingertips, so he traces them gently. After a moment, Merlin shoves his hands away, then unlocks the door and half carries him into their flat. It reminds Arthur of the previous week when he did the same for Merlin. 

Merlin tugs him toward his room, but Arthur is wide awake and wants to watch a movie instead. Merlin tries again to redirect him toward the hallway. “Come on, lazy daisy, you’re too heavy for me to carry you all the way to your bed.”

“Wan watcha movie!” Then Merlin’s words filter into his brain. “Hey! Callin’ me fat?” With one arm already around Merlin’s shoulders, he tries to reach up and punch him in the arm with his free hand, but instead manages to trip them both up, and they go sprawling to the floor, with Arthur half on top of Merlin. Their faces are just an inch apart and he's totally going to kiss Merlin now that he has him where he wants him! But again, before he can press his mouth to Merlin’s, Merlin puts a stop to it. 

He pushes Arthur off him, looking slightly angry. “Arthur, I can't do this. I won't be your drunken hookup. Just...go to bed!”


	27. Arthur

Arthur wakes up on the hallway floor, with a pillow under his head and a blanket draped across him, but aching all over from sleeping directly on the hard floor. He’s still fully dressed, except for shoes, and his phone and wallet are in his pocket. He pulls the phone out, checks the time - 2 am - then moves to his bed, making a pit stop in the bathroom to brush his teeth, take two paracetamol, and drink several cups of water straight from the sink tap. Stripping down to just his boxers, he gratefully melts into the soft comfort of his bed and falls back into a deep and dreamless sleep.

\------

The next time Arthur wakes, the sun is slanting through the windows of his West-facing bedroom and the smell of something delicious is filtering into his room. He takes a long, hot shower, gulping down another pair of pills to banish his lingering headache, and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and an Arsenal t-shirt. 

He emerges from his room still yawning and stretching, finding Merlin in the home theater watching without sound, and tries to say “Morning Merlin” through another yawn. What comes out of his mouth is almost intelligible.

“Good afternoon, Mr Mumbles. I thought you'd be gone by now, leaving an Arthur who can actually enunciate.” Merlin is smiling at him, but looks a bit uncomfortable. Guarded. “I figured you'd be feeling bad today, so I made vegetable barley stew and fresh bread.” 

Arthur collapses into the seat next to Merlin and reclines it partway, but Merlin simultaneously hops up and goes into the kitchen, bringing back a bowl with a large chunk of bread sticking out of one side. 

Completely ignoring his own rules about not eating on the theater seats - because hangover - he takes the offered bowl. “God, was I horrid last night? I can't remember anything.” He eats the end of bread that has sopped up broth from the soup and moans in pleasure then begins slurping spoonfuls. “Mmm, this is great. Perfect hangover food. Thank you.” 

Merlin seems to relax a little at this. “I wouldn't say horrid, you were actually pretty hilarious.”

“Should I be embarrassed?” Arthur groans. “Oh no...I puked in public, didn't I?”

“Yep.” Merlin sounds almost amused.

“Who saw? Did anyone video me?” He knows he’s overreacting, but if video of that gets posted, it could go viral.

“No, calm down, Arthur. No one was out there but our friends. Why are you so worried?”

“Merlin, wouldn't you be concerned? But then why would you be? You're not an extremely recognizable twenty-something CEO who has to worry about his every misstep reflecting poorly on the company, are you?” Merlin winces as if Arthur's words hurt him, or maybe he’s just feeling Arthur's pain. But it makes Arthur realize that his words sounded rude. Yet another thing to apologize for. He adds it to the list, but he definitely isn't awake enough for that discussion yet.

Merlin takes his empty bowl and walks it back to the kitchen, returning almost immediately with two glasses of water. “I never even thought about that. It sounds horrible.” Once he sits back down, he flips channels and points to the screen at a news story. “Speaking of which, I thought you might be interested in this. They've been running breaking news coverage all day.”

Video of his uncle being taken from Camelot in handcuffs plays on the screen with the words “Camelot Clean-up” in large letters at the bottom. Scrolling text underneath indicates that dozens of women have come forward, giving testimony against Agravaine Dubois.

Arthur drops his head into his hands and groans. “Shit Merlin. I don't think I handled that very well. I probably should have waited until we had more evidence and done things quietly.”

“No. The media is absolutely eating this up. They've talked to some Camelot employees, all applauding the changes you've made this year. Nimueh has gone on several interviews, singing your praises for investigating immediately and thoroughly, and taking swift action against your executive. The story said it's practically unheard of for stock prices to increase when a company has a scandal, but that your decisive handling of it has impressed investors so much that weekend aftermarket trading has already shown an increase.”

The relief coursing through him is so palpable that it actually makes him angry. “People are so fickle. This so easily could have gone the opposite way.”

Merlin shifts his body, pulling one leg under him so that he can turn to face Arthur more fully. “It could have gone badly, Arthur, if you weren't in charge. The people at Camelot love you, everyone can see that you're special...that you're worthy.” 

Arthur is floored by the passion he can hear behind Merlin’s words. “I…” He clears his throat. ”Thank you Merlin.” He hesitates again, but awake or not, the time has come. “Umm, listen, I've been wanting to apologize…”

Merlin interrupts, sounding sincere.”Nothing to apologize for, Arthur. You've been great to let me crash here, and to plan the bake-off, and just...everything.” And even though he sounds sincere, he looks away as if there’s more that he's not saying. “I really appreciate all of the nice things you've done for me.”

A snippet of a song filters into Arthur's brain. 

“Why would you do all the nice things that you do   
If you didn't really mean them   
from the bottom of your heart”

“No, really, I said things that didn't come out the way I meant them on Sunday. And I just want to say…” Arthur doesn't know why he’s having so much trouble talking about his feelings. He is certainly feeling. All the feelings. But he just doesn't know what words to use to express them. 

Again, a line from a song filters into his brain. 

“I think you're my best friend.”

And that's not exactly what Arthur wants to say, but it's not exactly wrong either. So what blurts from his mouth is simply. “We ARE friends, aren't we, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up and studies him for a moment before grinning and responding, “Whatever gave you that idea?” And Arthur can't stop his own answering grin. 

He isn't sure how long they sit, just like that, holding each other's gaze, because he's completely entranced. He'd be content to stay here for the rest of the day. But when his eyes drop to plump lips, Merlin turns abruptly to the screen and asks, “Feel like watching something? You'll have to turn on the sound though, because you've never shown me how to do that.”

Arthur stays exactly where he is, continuing to watch Merlin, but replies, “Sure. Where were we in our Marvel marathon? Or did you have something else in mind?”

“Well, I was just rewatching episodes of Big Fat Quiz of the Year. Without sound. My mate Will and I used to pretend to be Goth Detectives, back when we first watched it. It's different watching, now that I've met Noel.” 

He can just imagine Merlin as a goth. Thick black eyeliner and a flowey black shirt with lace cuffs and his tight black skinny jeans. His hair gelled into tall spikes instead of the soft mess of black curls. He wouldn't even have to dye his hair. “Bet you looked like a girl.” But what he means is, I bet you looked luscious. 

Merlin doesn't even take the bait. His gaze is completely distant, lost in memory, and Arthur doesn't like the churning in his gut at the mention of Will, who was his best friend and has captured all of Merlin's attention now. “We were playing Goth Detectives the first time we kissed. My first kiss.”

And now Arthur really hates this Will. Partially because Arthur wishes he’d been Merlin's first kiss, but also because whatever he did, however he ended things, it's caused tears to gather in the corners of Merlin's eyes. But Merlin surreptitiously wipes them away before they can fall, and if Arthur hadn’t been paying such close attention, he might have missed them completely. Even so, he just doesn't want to let Merlin feel so obviously miserable without saying something to try to cheer him up. “Must not have been a very good first kiss if it's still making you cry to think about it.”

A few more tears slip down Merlin's cheeks, and he again swipes them away quickly. “I just miss him.” 

The words come out so quiet and small it's as if he didn't even mean to say them, and Arthur wants to grab him in a hug and hold him until the sadness fades, but Arthur doesn't know how to just hug someone out of the blue. So instead, he finds himself sharing a bit of his father's wisdom. “No man is worth your tears, Merlin. Even if he did break your heart.”

For a moment, he thinks his words have just caused even more damage, but then Merlin swallows roughly and focuses his eyes on Arthur - on the present instead of the past - and replies, “Well, you certainly aren't.” 

And Arthur thinks that maybe they're getting back on familiar ground, hurling surly insults and cheeky retorts instead of spilling truths from deep within their souls, so he gives a tart response of his own. “I’d’ve needed to have your heart to break it, Merlin.”

“I s’pose that's true.” As the tear-filled eyes hold his, and continue holding, Arthur thinks that maybe they are still in the soul bearing truth part of their conversation.

“Merlin...on Sunday...I didn't mean what I said…”

“That doesn’t mean your words didn't hurt...didn't make me think that you don't care for me at all.”

Again words bubble from his subconscious.

“One day I'll be solidly in love with you, and then the next I'm not sure you even care for me at all.”

The similarity between Merlin's words and the words in the song make Arthur wonder, make him hope. If Merlin was worried that Arthur didn't care for him at all, could that possibly mean…? “There was a song last night…”

Merlin interrupts him. “Yeah, we did go out to hear a band, you know. They played lots of them.” Is he trying to keep Arthur from remembering?

“No. You played it. In the car.”

“Yeah...yes. I did.” Again, Merlin looks away. 

“I liked it. It made me think of you.”

Merlin's response is tentative, like it's being pulled from him without his permission. “That's...why I played it...because it reminds me of you.” 

And there it is. If that song reminds Merlin of Arthur, and if his abrupt words hurt, then maybe, like the first part of that line, sometimes Merlin is solidly in love with him too.

Arthur slowly leans toward Merlin, giving him all the time in the world to say no again. Again? Where did that thought come from? Arthur hasn’t ever tried kissing him before. But blurry images of this happening before surface in his memory. Of Merlin turning away, of Merlin telling him no. Are they memories or images from bad dreams? Either way, this time Merlin doesn't turn away or tell him no. So Arthur brushes his lips gently across Merlin's. Softly, sweetly, then a second time more firmly. 

And Merlin inhales him, pushing up on his knees and pressing Arthur back into his seat to devour him with kisses. It's as if he'd been struggling so hard to hold in his feelings that once Arthur touched their lips together, the floodgates were opened and Merlin can longer hold anything back.

Several minutes later, Merlin pulls back and asks breathlessly, “I've been wondering...wanting to ask all week...what had you written on the back of that cake topper?”

Arthur blushes...but really, they've just been snogging as if their lives depended on it...and he had planned to truly talk to Merlin about his feelings, which he hasn't yet been able to manage. So why not. “It said ‘I'm happy to be your pratmate until the day I die.’” When Merlin smiles, it's the smile that radiates happiness through Arthur, and he feels as if maybe his answering smile is vibrating at the same frequency and resonating happiness through the entire flat, so he continues. “When your uncle’s flat is complete, please don't move...unless you'd like to move into my room. Because...well...you make me happier than I've ever been.”

Arthur feels like he’s being rewarded for actually talking about his feelings when Merlin climbs over the theater seat armrests - rules? what rules? Arthur couldn't care less whether the seats are damaged - to straddle Arthur's legs, envelop him in a full body hug, and lick his way into Arthur's mouth to give him the sexiest, most heart-felt kisses of his life.


	28. Epilogue - Freya

Eight months later 

If Freya is being honest, she would have to admit that she really didn't like Arthur Pendragon the first several times they met. He was self-centered, narcissistic, unaware of anyone other than himself, and she's almost certain that he completely forgot who she was immediately after their introduction...six times in a row. 

The seventh time they met, he was with Merlin, and as far as she could tell was completely unchanged from the first six times. She knew that he was letting Merlin crash at his flat, and her only thought was ‘Poor Merlin.’

But then, just two days later, Arthur had paid for twenty people to participate in a bake-off for Merlin’s birthday, completely shattering all of her preconceived notions about him. Would a narcissistic jerk really go to that much trouble - and expense - for his new flatmate? And yet, somehow, by the end of that week, her friend was more miserable than she'd ever seen him. 

Never, during all of that time, would she have predicted that she'd be sitting in the courtyard of a castle in the French countryside a mere eight months later attending their wedding. 

For one thing, she'd been certain, without ever questioning it, that Arthur’s type was brainless arm candy - of the female variety. In her defense, he’d been with that blonde brat - Vivian - the first few times they'd met and they'd seemed a perfectly matched set to Freya. 

For another, though she'd adored Merlin from the moment she met him, she'd never expected to warm up to Arthur. Of course, ever since he started dating Merlin, he's like a completely different person. But more importantly, she never thought that Arthur would even remember who she was to invite her.

So when Percival nuzzled her neck while they were having a late lie-in one Sunday in March and said “Mmm, I forgot to tell you. Arthur and Merlin are getting hitched next month. Arthur decided to have a destination wedding so that he’d have an excuse for keeping it intimate,” she'd immediately assumed that he was trying to tell her that she wouldn't be invited. But now, here she is, spending the week abroad, literally living in a castle called Château de Pierrefonds

This is exactly the outrageously over the top wedding she'd have expected of Arthur Pendragon, if she'd ever bothered to think on it. But she would have expected him to have hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of guests - corporate toadies and potential financial backers and sycophantic business partners and a circus of media coverage - instead of this cozy group of their most cherished friends and family, all staying at the castle for the entire week, with festivities every day and feasts every evening. She would have thought everything would be posh and proper, instead of having live action D&D campaigns through the castle with a hired DM and professional actors playing their foes. She would have expected it all to center on appearances and corporate benefits...instead of being one hundred percent about how absolutely in love he is, and how committed he is to making Merlin happy.

She's never been so glad to be wrong about so many things.

She glances around at the other guests, all people who she has come to know fairly well in the months that she's been dating Percival, and even better in the past few days of living with them - in a freaking castle!! Everyone else seems to be just as in the dark about the proceedings as she is, glancing around curiously and periodically shifting in their seats to look out through the portcullis. All she knows is that Percival left more than an hour ago and told her that he was sworn to secrecy. She assumes everyone else was told a similar story. So, here they all sit, facing the front steps of the castle, with the castle walls encircling them, wondering where the wedding party is and when they will arrive and what sort of surprise they have in store.

Several minutes later - minutes sitting outside in perfect weather, in the French countryside, in a castle, no less, so it isn't like she's complaining about the wait - the clattering of horse hooves fills the air and everyone turns to look as the wedding party comes galloping through the gates, with matching crimson capes streaming behind them. As they pull their horses to a halt and dismount, Freya realizes that they're all wearing period clothing: lush velvet embroidered tunics with swords belted at their hips for the men, and gorgeous dresses and jewels on Morgana and Gwen. Arthur and Merlin are even wearing crowns - gold and gem encrusted for Arthur, and a silver circlet that looks Celtic for Merlin. She finds Percival in their midst and is amused to see that the sleeves are ripped out of his tunic. They must not have been comfortable on his wonderfully muscled arms.

As Freya gasps aloud at their entrance and their attire, she realizes that everyone else is doing so as well, and the initial reaction quickly turns to excited applause. Arthur's assistant, George, jumps up from his seat to take the lead of Arthur and Merlin's horses, and guides them into the stables, while others do the same for the rest of the party. And then, after what seemed like a long wait followed by a blur of momentous activity, the wedding party is suddenly arrayed on the steps of the castle and ready to begin the ceremony.

Yet another thing that Freya wouldn't have predicted is how the wedding party is arrayed on the steps. Standing on Merlin's side are Tristan and Lance, both unsurprising, Gwen, who works for Arthur, and Gwaine, Arthur's brother in law. And on Arthur's side are Leon, Percival, and Elyan, all three obvious choice, plus Isolde, one of Merlin's oldest and dearest friends. And most surprising of all is Morgana - standing between Merlin and Arthur - who is apparently going to officiate.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...” Morgana's crystal clear voice rings out through the courtyard with a slight echo off the stones as she begins a very traditional wedding ceremony. 

When Morgana announces “You may kiss your husband!”, Merlin pauses right before their lips touch and says “I'm happy to be your husband till the day I die!” His words are so heartfelt that Freya feels a rush of fresh tears flood her eyes and spill down her cheeks. But when Arthur retorts, “Shut up and kiss me, Merlin!” she finds herself laughing and crying simultaneously. 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just curious...did anyone notice that Freya didn't get a chapter in the bake-off? I saved her for the epilogue. :-)
> 
> Also, the castle is, of course, the one where our beloved show was filmed. You truly can have a wedding there, though I'm not sure if you can stay there with your wedding party. I do know that they didn't let Bradley James sleep there during filming. Booo.
> 
> Here are two blogs with photographs about weddings at the castle:
> 
> https://caughtthelight.com/wedding-photography-france/
> 
> https://artweddingphotography.eu/t-s-photographe-de-mariage-paris-chateau-de-pierrefonds-wedding/!
> 
>  
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed my story, and for those who have been reading since the beginning, my sincere apologies for how slow I have been to get this written!!


End file.
